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DOCAS 


Frontispiece. 





DOCAS 


THE INDIA N BOV OF SANTA CLARA 


BY 

GENEVRA SISSON SNEDDEN 

*4 


BOSTON, U.S.A. 

D. C. HEATH & CO., PUBLISHERS 
1899 


L 


38472 

Copyright, 1899, 

By D. C. heath & CO. 

. WWOOUl^u. ^ 




VO 


Norfajoot) iPress 

J. S. Cushing & Co. — Berwick & Smith 
Norwood Mass. U. S. A. 


My dear Children : — 

What sort of people do you like best to read 
about — white people or Indians? 

I think you will say Indians, because all the 
children of whom I have ever asked this ques- 
tion have said that they liked best to read about 
Indians. Indians do everything so differently 
from the way we do that they are always inter- 
esting. 

This book which we are now going to read 
is about Indians, — the Indians who lived near 
the Pacific Ocean before our grandfathers were 
born, and before we Americans came west and 
settled the country. 

Do you like best to read about grown-up peo- 
ple or about children? I think I can hear you 
say, “ What a question ! Children, of course ! ” 
Yes, children can have such fun, running and 
playing and finding out about all kinds of things 
for which grown people never have time, that 
it is much pleasanter to read about them. So 


VI 


TO THE CHILDREN, 


this whole book is about children. The first 
part tells about the little Indian boy, Docas ; 
farther on, when Docas grows to be a man, the 
book tells about his children and grandchildren. 

Last of all, the stories tell about things that 
actually happened to Indian children long ago 
in California, so they are what you call “ truly 
stories,” not “ made-up ones.” 

These are some of the reasons why the chil- 
dren for whom the stories were first written 
liked them and learned from them, and for these 
same reasons I think many of you will care to 
read about Docas, the Indian boy of Santa Clara. 

THE AUTHOR. 


NOTE. 

These stories were originally written to serve as reading material for 
the children in the University School connected with the Department 
of Education at the Leland Stanford Junior University. The never- 
failing delight with which those children welcomed each new instalment 
was the first impetus toward putting the stories in a form where they 
would have a larger audience. 

The work was done as a thesis in history under the direction of Mary 
Sheldon Barnes. To her careful supervision and many suggestions the 
book owes much of whatever merit it may possess. 


TABLE OF CONTENTS 


PART I. 

WHEN DOCAS LIVED AT THE INDIAN VILLAGE. 

PAGE 

Building the Fire 3 

Docas at Breakfast 5 

How Docas went Fishing ....... 7 

Massea’s Storehouse ........ 10 

How Docas caught the Grasshoppers . . . . *15 

The Grass-seed Basket 17 

Docas’s New Skirt 21 

The Sweat House 24 

The Feast of the Eagles 27 

The Invitation to the Dance .• 30 

The Acorn Dance 31 

Docas playing “jTeekel ” -36 

Making the Mountains .40 

The Measuring-worm Rock 42 

The First White Man 44 

Docas goes to the Red Hill 49 

Docas in a Fight 52 

PART II. 

WHEN DOCAS LIVED AT THE MISSION. 

Docas goes to live at the Mission 57 

Breakfast at the Mission ....... 59 

The Mission School ........ 63 

vii 


TABLE OF CONTENTS. 


viii 


PAGE 

Raising Corn 65 

Threshing the Grain ........ 69 

Getting ready to make Bricks ...... 72 

Getting the Timbers . • . 79 

Building the Church ........ 80 

Visit of Father Serra ........ 85 

Visit of Captain Vancouver 88 

Preparing Hides and Tallow ....... 93 

Making the Ox-cart ........ 98 

Shipping the Hides and Tallow 102 

Trading on the Ship 108 

Leaving the Mission 1 1 1 

PART III. 

WHEN DOCAS LIVED WITH DON SECUNDINI ROBLES. 

Wash-day 117 

The Cascarone Ball 122 

The Sheep-shearing 128 

The Barbecue . . . . . . . . -133 

Horseback-riding . . . . . . . . -138 

The Rodeo 142 

Bibliography 148 


LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 


• PAGE 

Docas ........ Frontispiece 

“ A little Indian boy poked his head out of a brush house ” . 2 

‘ Then we will spear them ’ ” ...... 9 

“ After the storehouse was made ” . . . . . *13 

I can carry the new basket,’ said Docas” . . . -19 

Massea bringing home a deer 23 

Look at them ! There they go !’ cried Docas to Heema” . 25 

“ ‘ Tell Umwa we love her still ...... 29 

The red deer 33 

Docas sent the ball flying over his goal ” . . . -39 

“ ^ That will give Ama and Docas something to eat for a long 

time 47 

‘‘ He decided to go to the Mission to live ” . . . - 56 

Massea gathering corn 67 

Threshing the grain 73 

And there was another brick ” 77 

“ The day before, Massea and two men had gone to the hills 

to fell the trees ” 81 

“ Docas lived in a ’dobe house ” 89 

Osh da 94 

ix 


X 


LIST OF ILLUSTRAT/OJVS. 


' PAGE 

“Then Colla went close to the hole ” ..... 97 

“ Docas and Oshda brought the hides and tallow down to the 

beach in the ox-carts ” ...... 105 

“As the Father went on board the ship the captain gave 

orders to fire the big guns as a salute to him ” . .109 

“With her were an old man and a little boy” . . *113 

“ Colla, Putsha, and the other women put soap on the clothe.s, 

then dipped them into the creek ” . . . .119 

“ ‘ Let’s go to meet them ’ ” 125 

“ Shecol lifted the lamb carefully in his arms and carried it 

toward the hut” . . . . . . . *131 

Yappa grinding corn 135 

Don Secundini 141 


PART I. 


WHEN DOCAS LIVED AT THE INDIAN VILLAGE. 



A little Indian boy poked his head out of a brush house. 




PART 1. 


WHEN DOGAS LIVED AT THE INDIAN VILLAGE. 

BUILDING THE FIRE. 

O H, mother!” cried a little Indian boy, “ I 
am hungry.” 

“ Then go and start the fire so that I can cook 
breakfast,” answered his mother. 

It was about a hundred years ago that this little 
boy, whose name was Docas, poked his head out 
of a brush house. Ama, his mother, was sitting 
on the ground just outside, grinding acorns in a 
stone bowl. 

Docas went to the middle of the hut, where the 
blazing fire of wood had been the night before. 
Just before Ama had gone to sleep she had covered 
with ashes the glowing coals that were left from 
the fire. 

Docas raked off the ashes and began to blow 
on the blackened coals that were left. There 
was not much life in them, but they began to 
redden a little. 

He put some dry leaves against them and blew 

3 


4 


DOCAS. 


harder. The leaves smoked, but would not light, 
no matter how hard he blew. And all the time 
the coals were getting blacker and blacker. 

At last he called, “ I cannot light it, mother.” 

Ama came over where he was and began to 
blow, too ; but even she could not start it, for the 
fire had died out. 

“ I must get some new fire,” said Ama at 
last. 

She picked up two dry willow sticks and two 
flints. She rubbed the willow sticks together 
very hard for a while. 

“ Do you see the little dust that is gathering } ” 
she asked. “ Now I will strike the flints together 
until they send a spark down into that dry dust.” 

In a few minutes a spark fell into the dust, the 
dust flared up, and Docas exclaimed, “ There ! 
now we have a fire.” He dropped some dry 
leaves on the burning dust, then he put some 
little twigs on the leaves. After that he called 
to his younger brother : — 

“ Wake up, Heema ! Come and get some big 
sticks for the fire.” 

Heema rolled off the mat of tule reeds on which 
he had been sleeping, rubbed his eyes, and said, 
“ I’m ready, Docas.” 

Heema did not have to spend time dressing. 
All the Indian children ever wore was a little 
skirt made of rabbit-skin or deer-skin. 


AT THE INDIAN VILLAGE. 


5 


In a minute more Heema had piled some large 
sticks on the fire. Then it blazed up brightly. 

“ It’s foggy, and I’m cold,” said Docas. “ Sit 
down by the fire with me and get warm.” 

Docas and Heema were California Indians. 
They lived in an Indian rancheria, or village, 
near San Francisco Bay. Their father, whose 
name was Massea, was chief of the rancheria. 

Docas was seven years old, while Heema was 
six. Alachu, one of their sisters, was three. 
Umwa was the other sister. She was so tiny 
that she had to be carried in a basket on her 
mother’s back. 

DOCAS AT BREAKFAST. 

“ pUT the stones into the fire, boys, so that 

^ they will be hot when the acorns are 
ground,” said Ama. 

Docas pulled toward the fire five large stones 
that were lying near. 

“ I’ll throw them in,” said Heema, tossing them 
into the middle of the hottest blaze. 

Then Docas said, “ Let’s surprise father by 
shooting a rabbit for breakfast.” 

“ Here are your bow and arrows,” answered 
Heema. 

In a moment more they ran off. Docas hunted 
among the brush and trees near by for a rabbit. 


6 


DOCAS. 


but he could not find one, so he ran back toward 
the rancheria. 

“ I’ve found something that’s better than rab- 
bits,” Docas heard Heema say suddenly. 

“ Where are you, Heema 1 ” asked Docas. 

“ Here among the bushes, eating thimble-ber- 
ries,” answered Heema, peeping out from among 
the large green leaves. 

Docas laughed and began eating berries, too. 
The berries were so good that they forgot all 
about breakfast, until suddenly they heard their 
mother’s voice calling : — 

“ Boys, where are you ? The acorns are ready 
to cook.” 

The boys took one last mouthful of thimble- 
berries and then bounded toward the rancheria. 

Ama put a basketful of cold water down by 
the fire as they came up. 

“ Heema, pour the acorn meal into the water. 
Docas, rake out the hot stones and put them into 
the water to cook the mush,” said Ama. 

“ I hope this mush will not be bitter,” said 
Docas, as he dropped a red-hot stone into the 
water. 

“No; this will be good, for I soaked the acorns 
a long time and then dried them in the sun be- 
fore I ground them,” answered Ama. 

In a few minutes the mush was cooked; then 
Ama called Massea, and the whole family sat 


AT THE INDIAN VILLAGE. 


7 


around the basket. They all ate out of it at 
once, using sticks hollowed out at the end in- 
stead of spoons. 


HOW DOCAS WENT FISHING. 

O NE day Massea came up to Docas. 

“ To-day we will go fishing,” he said. 

Then Docas ran away to find his playmates. 
“We are going fishing! We are going fish- 
ing ! ” he cried. 

Then all the children began to dance and 
jump. 

“We are going fishing! We are going fish- 
ing!” they screamed. For the children were 
glad when the fishing days came. 

But first Massea must drive stakes across the 
bed of the creek just below the boys’ swimming 
hole. 

And he must drive them very close together, 
for he wants to keep the fish from swimming 
through. 

After Massea had made the fence, Docas called 
to Heema, “ I’ll race you up the creek.” 

“You will have to hurry or I shall beat you,” 
answered Heema. 

Then they both started to run along the bank 
of the creek. 


DOCAS. 


“ Come, Alachu. You may go, too,” said Ama. 

All the women and children in the rancheria 
went also. They walked along the bank of the 
creek for about a quarter of a mile, then Alachu 
cried, “ I see Docas. I see Heema.” 

Docas was standing on the bank. “Watch 
me ! ” he called to Alachu. 

He dived off the bank and disappeared in a 
large hole. 

“ Mother ! mother ! Docas is drowned ! ” cried 
Alachu. 

Ama smiled and answered, “ Wait and see.” 

In a minute more Docas’s head popped sud- 
denly out of the water. 

Then the women and children walked out 
into the middle of the creek and began to wade 
down it. 

Alachu heard a shout and saw Heema getting 
ready to jump. 

“ Be careful ; I am afraid you will jump on top 
of me,” she cried. 

There was a big splash, and Alachu gave a 
scream as the water splashed over her. Heema 
was standing in the water a few feet away. 

“A water fight! ^We’ll have a water fight!” 
cried the children. 

They jumped about in the water. They 
splashed it all over each other. They laughed 
and shouted and made all the noise they could. 



“Then we will spear them.” 







lO 


DOCAS. 


As they stopped for a moment to take breath, 
Docas said, “ See the fish swim down the creek. 
They are scared.” 

The battle lasted until the rancheria was in 
sight, and by that time all the fish were in the 
swimming hole. Then Massea said, “Now we 
must build a fence above them.” 

When the fence was built, Docas said, “ Now 
the fish cannot swim away, for there is a fence 
below them and a fence above them.” 

That night Massea said, “ We will build fires 
on the bank of the creek. The fish will come 
near to look at the light; then we will spear 
them.” 

And so it happened. The men speared 
enough fish that night to give them something 
to eat for several days. 


massea’s storehouse. 



NE day in October, Massea said to Docas, 


“ Come, Docas, you must help me make a 
storehouse to-day, so that we shall have some- 
thing to eat by and by.” 

Massea and Docas went out into the woods. 
They hunted until they found an oak tree with 
two branches growing straight out at about the 
same height from the ground. 


AT THE INDIAN VILLAGE. 


I 


Massea said, “Climb the tree, Docas;” so Docas 
scrambled up. 

Massea then handed him some straight sticks. 
Docas put these sticks across from branch to 
branch, and tied the ends fast to the two branches 
of the tree with deerskin strings. After this his 
father brought up some twigs that bent easily. 
They wove these back and forth among the sticks 
until they had a good floor for their storehouse. 
In the same way they made the sides and the 
top, leaving a hole near the trunk of the tree for 
a door. 

After the storehouse was made, Docas said to 
some of the other little Indian children, “ Let’s 
go off and get some acorns to put in the store- 
house.” 

They took their baskets and went off toward 
the hills. Soon they came to some big oak trees. 

One of the little boys called out, “ Look ! the 
ground is covered with acorns under that tree.” 

Sure enough, the acorns had dropped down 
from the tree until they were so thick on the 
ground that the children could scrape them up. 
Before night they had filled their baskets. 

Docas put the acorns he had gathered into the 
storehouse which he and his father had made. 
Every day the children went out to gather acorns ; 
every night they poured them into the storehouse, 
and soon it was full. 


12 


DOCAS. 


The day they finished filling it, Docas saw a 
little squirrel run up the trunk of the tree and 
go into the storehouse. Docas stood very still 
and watched. In a few minutes he saw the 
squirrel come back with his cheeks sticking out. 
He was carrying off the acorns. 

Docas ran over to where his father was lying 
in the shade of a large tree, and said, “ Oh, father, 
we shall not have any acorns left in a few days. 
The squirrels have begun to carry them off.” 

Massea went over to the tree in which the 
storehouse was built. He smeared a broad band 
of pitch clear around the trunk. 

“ This will stop them,” he said. 

The Indians had no more trouble after that; 
for if anything tried to climb the tree, it was 
caught in the band of sticky pitch. 

While Massea was smearing the pitch around 
the trunk, Docas saw a bird at work in a tree 
near by. 

“ There is the woodpecker,” cried Docas, point- 
ing to a woodpecker busily putting acorns away 
in his storehouse. 

The woodpecker’s storehouse was not like 
Massea’s. Every summer the woodpecker pecks 
a great many holes just the size of an acorn in 
the bark of a tree. When fall comes, and the 
acorns are ripe, he puts the best ones in his holes. 
He hammers them in so tight that they do not 
often fall out. 



After the storehouse was made. 














14 


DOCAS. 


“ I hope we shall not have to take the wood- 
pecker’s acorns this winter,” said Massea. 

As long as their acorns lasted, Massea and the 
other Indians did not touch the acorns that the 
woodpecker had gathered. But one day all 
the Indians at the rancheria went off fishing. 
While they were gone their campfire spread and 
burned the tree in which they had made their 
storehouse. 

Docas was skipping along ahead as they came 
home. He saw what had happened. He ran 
back to Massea and Ama, crying out, “ The 
storehouse is burnt ! The storehouse is burnt ! ” 

Massea looked very sad at supper that night, 
and said, “ I am afraid we shall have to take the 
woodpeckers’ acorns.” 

The Indians did not like to take the acorns, 
so they waited three days. By that time they 
were so hungry that they could wait no longer. 

Docas built a fire near the woodpecker’s tree. 
The smoke that went up from it told the wood- 
pecker that he would have to go. After a little 
he did not care to stay, for the smoke spoiled 
the acorns for him. So he flew away. 

Docas then climbed the tree and pulled off 
the bark. That let the acorns fall out and then 
the Indians gathered them up and put them into 
a new storehouse, ready for future use. 


AT THE INDIAN VILLAGE. 


IS 


HOW DOGAS CAUGHT THE GRASSHOPPERS. 

/^NE day in September, Docas and the rest of 
the family were all seated round a large 
basket. They were eating their acorn mush. 
Just as Docas put his stick in to get some, he 
heard something go “click” behind him. 

He thought to himself, “ The grasshoppers are 
getting thicker.” 

He lifted his stick, and there in the mush on 
the end of it was a grasshopper. 

“Look!” said Docas to Heema. 

“ Let me get him out,” said Heema, laughing 
and picking up a stick from the ground. Heema 
lifted the grasshopper out of the mush. 

Then Docas said, “ Let’s catch grasshoppers 
to-morrow.” 

Heema said, “ Yes.” 

All day they heard the “ Click, click,” of jump- 
ing grasshoppers. 

That evening, when the children began play- 
ing, Docas ran up to them and said, “ Help me 
dig a hole to catch the grasshoppers in.” 

The children began digging a little way out 
from the rancheria, and before dark they had 
made a big hole. 

Next morning, while the grasshoppers were 
still cold and stiff, Docas said to the children. 


i6 


DOCAS. 


“ Let s make a big ring around the hole before 
the sun warms the grasshoppers.” 

And they did so. 

“ Now we will walk slowly toward the hole,” 
said the children. 

Little by little the children came nearer. Little 
by little the ring grew smaller. Little by little 
the grasshoppers inside the ring grew frightened. 

“They’re jumping down into the hole now,” 
said Docas. 

Soon the children were close to the edge of 
the hole. 

“ I am going to jump into the hole,” said Docas. 
“ I can soon catch them down there. They 
cannot jump out so easily as they jumped in.” 

So Docas caught all the grasshoppers that were 
in the hole. He longed to eat them, but he 
waited until they were cooked. Ama baked the 
grasshoppers in the fire until they were quite dry; 
then she ground them in the stone bowl just as 
she did the acorns. 

After that the Indians ate them. 


AT THE INDIAN VILLAGE. 


17 


THE GRASS-SEED BASKET. 

morning in spring, Ama said to Docas, 
“ Stir up the fire. I must get breakfast.” 

“ I shall have to get some sticks,” answered 
Docas, running off to the woods. 

Baby Umwa was playing near. “ Baby will 
make a big fire for mother,” she thought. 

She began picking up dry leaves and throwing 
them on the fire. “ Here are some good sticks,” 
she said to herself. 

Docas had dropped his bow and arrows on the 
ground. She picked them up and threw them 
on the blazing leaves ; then she picked up a bas- 
ket and threw it on also. 

“ Hurry, Docas ! See baby’s big fire ! ” 

Docas rushed forward and seized the blazing 
basket, but it was so badly burned that it could 
not be used. 

“ Umwa ! Umwa ! ” he cried. “ You silly little 
baby! Mother will have to work for weeks to 
make her basket for grass-seed again.” 

Ama felt very sorry when she saw the burnt 
basket. 

“ You must go to-day and get some more roots 
with which to make some new baskets,” she said. 

After breakfast Docas and Heema went down 
to the edge of the bay. 


i8 


DOCAS. 


“How are you going to dig up the roots?” 
asked Heema. 

“ With my toes,” answered Docas. 

The long round roots ran along just under the 
ground in the mud. Docas stuck his bare toes 
into the mud, wriggling them along under a root. 
He loosened it a little at each wriggle, and by and 
by he pulled up a long straight root. 

Heema helped also, and that evening they car- 
ried home a big bundle of roots. 

The next day they went up in the hills and 
gathered a large number of maidenhair ferns. 
They came back by the San Francisquito creek 
and broke off a great many willow branches. 

As they trudged home, Heema asked, “ Do you 
think mother will put feathers or shells on these 
new baskets ? ” 

“ I don’t know,” answered Docas, “but she will 
make a pretty pattern with the dark fern stems 
or the willow bark.” 

Next morning Ama began making the new 
basket. She made this basket flat. 

By the time the basket was finished, the grass- 
seed was ripe in the fields around them. 

One morning Ama got up very early. Docas 
saw her pick up the new flat basket and a deep 
basket with a handle. 

“ I’m going to see what she does with the new 
basket,” thought Docas, creeping out very softly. 



“I can carry the new basket,” said Docas 





20 


DOCAS. 


He trotted along behind Ama as she walked 
out to the field of grass. The grass was so tall 
that Docas was almost hidden, and his mother did 
not see him. 

Docas watched Ama brush the tops of the 
grass with the flat basket. Every few minutes 
there would come a little rattle as Ama knocked 
the seeds down into the deep basket. “ Just hear 
the grass-seed rattle down into the deep basket,” 
said Docas to himself. 

The poppies were still asleep. Docas tried to 
poke some of them open, but they closed tightly 
again. He pulled some of the little green caps 
off the buds, but the little golden buds refused 
to open. 

“ They want the sun to drive away the mist 
before they wake up. Everything is sleepy this 
morning except mother. I think I’m sleepy my- 
self.” With that he fell asleep among the poppies, 
with the tall grasses nodding over him. After a 
little Ama came over that way, brushing the 
grass tops as she came. Suddenly she stumbled 
and looked down. 

“Why! There’s a child! It’s my own little 
Docas ! ” she exclaimed. 

Docas rubbed his eyes and looked at her. 
Then he rolled out of her way and jumped up. 

By that time the basket was full of seeds, so 
they started back to the rancheria. Ama slung 


AT THE INDIAN VILLAGE, 


21 


the deep basket on her back, carrying it by a 
strap across her forehead. 

“ I can carry the new basket,” said Docas. 

After they came to the rancheria, Ama made 
the grass-seed into bread for breakfast. 


DOCAS’s NEW SKIRT. 

M ASSEA and some of the other Indian men 
went out to hunt deer. Docas ran to meet 
them as they came home. 

“ How many did you get ? One, two, three, 
four, five, six,” he said, counting the deer. 

Then he ran to his mother and said, “ Oh, 
mother, may I not have a new skirt I want 
one of deer-skin instead of rabbit-skin this time.” 

“Yes, you shall have it as soon as I can make 
it for you,” answered his mother. 

After the deer were skinned, Ama took up a 
skin and said to Docas, “ Put it into a still pool 
in the creek and let it stay there.” 

“ How long must it stay } ” asked Docas. 

“ Until the hair is loose,” answered Ama. 

So every morning Docas went out to the skin 
to see if the hair was loose. One morning he 
came running to his mother, crying, “ Look, 
mother, I pulled this bunch of hair out so easily 
this morning ! ” 


22 


DOCAS. 


Then Ama took the skin out of the water. 

“You may pull all the hair out,” she said to 
Docas. “ After that I will scrape it with a sharp 
stone.” 

When both sides were scraped clean, Ama and 
Docas went out into the woods. 

“We must find two trees so close together that 
we can stretch the skin between them,” said 
Ama. 

By and by they found them, stretched the skin, 
and went back to camp. Every little while Docas 
went running out to the skin to see how fast it 
was drying. 

“ It just seems as if I couldn’t wait for my new 
skirt,” he said. 

When it was half dry, Ama warmed some 
deer’s brains at the fire. 

“ Now, Docas, get the deerskin,” she said. 
“You may rub some brains of a deer on the 
skin.” 

Docas rubbed and rubbed for a long time. 

“ Haven’t I rubbed enough } ” he asked after a 
while. 

“ No, you must get the skin very soft,” she 
answered. 

Docas’s arms grew tired after a little, so Ama 
said, “ Go out where the ground is wet and dig a 
hole. I will finish rubbing the skin.” 

By the time the hole was ready the skin was 



Massea bringing honne a deer. 






24 


DOCAS. 


soft. Ama brought it to the hole and said, “ Now 
we will bury the skin for four or five weeks.” 

“ Bury it ! ” exclaimed Docas. “ I thought it 
was ready to make into my skirt, now.” 

“ Not yet,” answered Ama. 

For several days Docas kept asking Ama if 
the skin was not almost ready, but after a while 
he grew tired of asking and forgot all about it. 

When the time was up, Ama went out to the 
hole one evening after Docas was asleep. She 
dug up the skin, cleaned it, and made it into a 
skirt. She put a fringe on the bottom of the 
skirt to finish it off. After the skirt was done 
she laid it by Docas’s side, where he would see it 
the first thing in the morning. 

Such a happy boy as he was when he found 
his new skirt! 


THE SWEAT HOUSE. 

M ASSEA and the other Indian men were not 
feeling well one day. They said, “ We 
ate too much deer. We must go to the sweat 
house.” 

The Indians had dug a large hole in the 
ground and made a rude cave. They had 
covered this with brush, leaving only one little 
hole for a door. They called this place the 
sweat house. 



cried Docas to Heema. 


26 


DOCAS. 


As the Indians went into the sweat house, Mas- 
sea said to Docas : — 

“ Build a fire in the doorway so that we cannot 
get out.” 

The sweat house was almost full of Indians, 
and after the fire was built they began to dance. 
They danced as hard as they could. 

“ I should not like to be in there,” said Docas 
to Heema. “ Just think how hot it must be! ” 

“ Hear them grunt I ” exclaimed Heema. 

It grew hotter and hotter in the sweat house, 
but the men kept on dancing. 

Soon the sweat began to pour off them until 
the ground was wet. Massea went around with 
a scraper and scraped the other Indians. 

By and by the fire went down, and Docas 
went off to play. By that time the Indians 
were tired out. 

“ Look at them 1 There they go ! ” cried Docas 
to Heema. Massea and the other men had 
jumped over the fire at the door and were run- 
ning down to the river. 

Heema and Alachu came running. 

“Now father’s in the water!” cried Docas. 
A moment later he added, “ See, he has come 
up out of the river. They are going to lie down 
in the sun to get warm and dry again. Let’s go 
down and play in the sun near them.” 


AT THE IND/AN VILLAGE. 


27 


THE FEAST OF THE EAGLES. 

I N the mountains near the camp was a gorge 
where the eagles built their nests. One day, 
Massea said to the other men : — 

“ To-morrow we will get the eagles.” 

Next morning early they started. 

“ We shall not be back until evening,” said 
Massea to Docas. “The eagles build their nests 
so high among the rocks that it is hard to reach 
them.” 

It was so late before the men came back that 
Docas was asleep, but he waked when he heard 
the voices. He looked out of the hut; then he 
shook Heema, saying, “Wake up, Heema; father 
has brought home two little eagles.” 

“ Let me take them to their huts,” said Docas to 
his father. 

Docas took the little eagles and put them 
into two brush huts that had been built for them. 

Little Umwa had died a few weeks before, so 
every day Massea, Ama, and the children went to 
see the eagles. Docas always took them some- 
thing to eat. 

“Tell Umwa we love her still,” said Docas to 
the eagles. 

“ Tell Umwa Til take good care of her if she 
will come back,” said Heema. 


28 


DOCAS. 


“Tell Umwa ’Lachu want to play,” said little 
Alachu. 

The father and mother also told the eagles 
many things to tell their baby, for the Indians 
thought that the eagles would see Umwa, and 
could talk to her after they were killed. 

The men built a very large brush hut, large 
enough to hold all the Indians in the village. 
At the end of two weeks, Massea said, “ Now we 
will build a fire in the big hut.” 

As the sun set they began dancing around the 
fire, and danced all night until almost sunrise. 
Each carried in his hands a bunch of owl feathers 
tied to a stick, with rattles from a rattlesnake in 
among the feathers. Whenever the bunch was 
shaken it made a rattling noise. 

Several times during the night Massea threw 
baskets on the fire. Sometimes the baskets 
rolled off without burning. Massea put those 
baskets into the laps of women who were sitting 
near the fire, saying to them, “ Give these baskets 
to the poor people.” 

This went on till sunrise, and then the fire was 
made to burn very brightly. The eagles were 
killed and their bodies were laid on the fire. As 
the bodies burned, Massea danced more wildly 
than ever, shaking the rattle even more rapidly. 
And all the time he kept calling, “ Don’t forget 
to tell Umwa.” 



“Tell Umwa we love her still.’’ 






30 


DOCAS. 


THE INVITATION TO THE DANCE. 

NE day Docas and his little brother Heema 



were playing near their brush hut, when 
Docas heard a slight noise near by. He looked 
up and saw another Indian boy about twelve 
years old. The boy held in his hand some strings 
of deerskin. 

“ It’s Apa, whose father is chief of the camp 
nearest us,” Docas said. 

The boy Apa came forward. “ Where’s your 
father } ” he asked. 

“ In the sweat house,” answered Docas. 

“ Give him this string when he comes out,” said 
Apa, taking one of the strings from the little 
bunch. “ Good-by. I have more camps to visit 
to-day,” and he started off on the run. 

Docas and Heema looked the string over as 
soon as Apa had gone. They found five knots 
tied in it, each a little way apart from the others. 

“ I wonder what the knots are for,” said Heema. 
“ Do they mean that they wish to fight us 1 ” 

“ No, for Apa’s father is our friend. Here 
comes father. We will ask him,” answered Docas. 

Docas and Heema ran toward Massea and gave 
him the string. As they passed Ama she saw 
the string and smiled. When they gave it to 
Massea, he smiled, too, and said, “ It is well.” 


AT THE INDIAN VILLAGE. 


31 


“ What does it mean, father ? ” asked Heema. 
“ Why do you and mother smile when you see 
it ? ” 

“ It means that Chief Yeeta sends to Chief 
Massea an invitation for everybody in our ran- 
cheria to come to a dance at his rancheria,” 
answered Massea. 

“ All right. Let’s go this morning,” said Heema, 
starting toward the hut to get the new rabbit-skin 
skirt his mother had just made for him. 

“Wait,” said Massea. “The five knots mean 
that we are not to come for five days.” 

“Oh, that’s so long to wait,” said Heema. 

“ You can watch the time for us,” said Massea. 
“ Every morning you may untie one of the knots 
for us, and when the last but one is reached, we 
will start.” 

So every morning, as soon as it was light, the 
two boys crept out of the hut and untied a knot. 

THE ACORN DANCE. 

“ '^HERE’S only one knot left. Can’t we start 

1 now ? ” shouted Heema, as he untied the 
next to the last knot. 

“Not until afternoon; but you may go to the 
marsh with me to gather reeds to blow on at the 
dance,” answered Massea. 

Just before lunch, Heema burst into the hut. 


32 


DOCAS. 


where Ama was busy putting food into their 
baskets. 

“ I got all these reeds myself and I tied them 
together myself,” he cried. He held up a bunch 
of reeds tied together with a deerskin string and 
almost as big as he was. 

“ Such fun as we shall have at the acorn dance ! ” 
he exclaimed, pulling a reed out of the bunch, 
and cutting it in such a manner that it made a 
rude flute. He began to jump around the hut, 
blowing on the reed meanwhile. As he gave 
an extra big jump, he lit on the edge of one of 
the baskets, tipped it over, and spilled the clams 
in it all over the ground. 

“ I wish you would be more quiet, like Docas,” 
said Ama. 

“ Never mind. I’ll pick up the clams,” said 
Heema, hurrying to get the clams back into the 
basket again. “ Docas wants to be a man. You 
can’t have much fun with him these days,” he 
said. 

Just as he put the last clam back, Docas and 
Massea came in sight, and Heema ran to meet 
them. 

By the middle of the afternoon, everything was 
ready, and they started with their reeds for the 
village of Chief Yeeta. They carried a great 
many clams and much grass-seed bread, for they 
were to be gone several days. Yeeta’s village 



The Red Deer. 




34 


DOCAS. 


was about eight miles away, by the side of a little 
brook. 

Docas walked quietly along by'Massea’s side, 
but Heema ran around so much, chasing squirrels, 
that he began to grow tired. 

Suddenly Docas said, “ There’s Apa.” 

“ He has come to meet us. We must be al- 
most there,” said Heema, forgetting that he was 
tired, and running forward. 

From the top of the next hill Heema could 
look down on the village where Apa lived. In 
a minute he came running back to Docas. 

“ Oh, there are so many people there ! And 
they are making a big circle by sticking green 
boughs in the ground out in an open place,” 
exclaimed Heema. “ Please hurry up, Docas, 
you are so slow.” 

Docas laughed and said, “ Not when I get 
started, Heema,” and he began running toward 
Apa. Docas could run fast, so he reached Apa 
long before Heema did. 

“ Why are the people putting grass down in a 
circle } ” asked Heema, as the three boys walked 
into the village. 

“ That’s where they dance, and they want it to 
be soft so that they can lie down when they get 
tired,” answered Docas. 

It was dark before all the invited people had 
come, so they all had supper and went to bed. 


AT THE INDIAN VILLAGE. 


35 


Next morning the dancing began. Massea 
stood on one side and stamped on a hollow log, 
while the women and the other men made one bie 
circle, and swayed back and forth, singing as they 
danced. They kept time with their singing and 
dancing to Massea’s stamping. 

By and by they grew tired and stopped danc- 
ing. 

Heema had gone down to the brook, for he 
was tired of watching the dance. 

“Come, Heema,” called Docas. “We must 
take around the acorn porridge now. The 
people are hungry.” 

After the porridge had been served, the men 
stepped out again into the circle, while the women 
sat on the ground outside and looked on. Yeeta 
had a big rattle in his hand, and each of the other 
men had a reed. 

Yeeta stood in the centre and shook his rattle. 
The other men blew on their reeds, and began 
jumping toward the right. The dance went 
on for a little while, and then suddenly Yeeta 
stopped shaking the rattle. The men, who were 
watching him, stopped dancing and blowing their 
reeds at the same time. 

“Good,” said Docas, who was standing near. 
“ No one got caught that time.” 

Yeeta again began shaking his rattle, and the 
dance went on once more. This time he had 


36 


DOCAS. 


been shaking the rattle for a long while, when 
suddenly he stopped a second time. 

“Look at them! Look at them! Half the 
men were not looking at him, and they are still 
dancing,” shouted Docas, and he laughed and 
pointed his finger at the dancers who were caught. 
The other boys laughed too, and the careless men 
looked foolish. 

And so the dance went on for days, until they 
had eaten all the food they had with them. As 
they went home, Docas said to Heema, “ I wish 
next autumn were here so that the acorns would 
be ripe again, and it would be time for another 
acorn dance.” 

DOCAS PLAYING “ TEEKEL.” 

“ /^H, Docas, I am so tired of working! Let’s 
play something,” said Heema one evening. 

“ Help me get the boys together and we will 
play teekel. Father and the other men played it 
last night,” answered Docas. 

Docas and Heema ran through the rancheria 
shouting, “ Come play teekel ! Come play teekel ! ” 
as loud as they could. 

Before five minutes had passed, a crowd of 
boys were gathered in an open space at one side 
of the rancheria. Each boy brought with him a 
long, slender stick about as tall as himself. 


AT THE INDIAN VILLAGE. 


37 


“ I will get the ball, if you will make the lines,” 
shouted Docas, running toward the hut. 

In a minute Docas came back carrying the ball, 
which was made of deerskin and looked like a 
small dumb-bell. While he was gone, the boys 
had scratched two long lines in the ground about 
ten feet apart. The lines were in the middle of 
the open space. 

“You haven’t made the hole for the ball yet,” 
said Docas. He dug out a little hole midway 
between the two lines and laid the ball in it. 

“We’ll give you first hit, and then we’ll get the 
ball back over your goal,” said Heema, tossing 
the ball up into the air for Docas to strike at 
with his stick. 

But Docas hit the ball and sent it flying toward 
Heema’s goal. 

“ After it, boys ! ” shouted Heema. 

In an instant the whole mass of boys were 
rushing toward the ball. Then such a running 
to and fro as there was ! Back and forth went 
the ball, first toward one goal, then toward the 
other. 

Such wild blows as were aimed at the ball ! 
Sometimes they hit it, but more often the sticks 
beat the air wildly, or else fell on some boy’s head 
or shoulders. Not a boy cried even if the blows 
did hurt, because, they thought, “ Our fathers did 
not cry when they played last night, and we must 


38 


DOCAS. 


not be less brave.” But they shouted and laughed 
so much that Massea came out to see what was 
going on. 

“ Run, Docas, run ! ” shouted Massea, as one 
of the boys on Docas’s side sent the ball flying 
far over the heads of the other boys, and down 
toward where Docas was standing near his goal. 

And Docas did run. He knew that the boys 
on the other side were coming as fast as they 
could. He knew that he was the only boy on 
his side who was near the ball, and that unless he 
reached it first they would send it back over to 
their goal. He knew that Massea and the other 
men were watching him. 

On came the crowd of boys. Now they were 
so near that their sticks were raised to strike the 
ball back. But Docas slipped in just ahead, hit 
the ball and sent it flying over his goal. Docas 
had fallen, but the other boys could not stop. 
They tumbled over Docas, and then in an instant 
there was a mixture of boys and sticks in a heap 
on the ground, with Docas at the bottom. 

In a minute more, however, they were on their 
feet. Docas got up and laughed, although he 
had a big lump on his forehead. He was happy, 
for he had won the game. And more than that, 
Massea’s hand lay on his head for an instant, as 
he said, “ My oldest son. He will be a man like 
his father some day.” 



And sent it flying over his goal. 


40 


DOCAS. 


MAKING THE MOUNTAINS. 


NE summer Massea went across the moun- 



tains east of the rancheria to the big valley 
beyond. He went to make a visit and to get 
some good wood from which to make bows, for 
the best wood for bows grew only on the moun- 
tains which were farther to the east. 

When he came back, all the Indians were lying 
around the campfire after supper. 

“ Tell us what you saw, father,” said Docas. 

“ I saw great mountains beyond the big valley.” 

“ Bigger mountains than ours } ” asked Docas. 

“ Yes, mountains so high that it is always win- 
ter on their tops,” answered Massea. 

“ I don’t see how the mountains ever came to be 
so big,” said Heema. 

“ Shall I tell you a story about how the moun- 
tains were made } I heard one over there,” said 
Massea. 

“ Yes ! Yes ! ” cried the children. 

“ Once upon a time there was nothing in the 
world but water. Where Tulare Lake now is, there 
was a pole standing up out of the water, and on it 
sat a hawk and a crow. First one of them would 
sit on it awhile, then the other would take his 
turn. Thus they sat on the pole above the water 
for a long, long time.” 


AT THE INDIAN- VILLAGE. 41 

“ How long ? ” asked Docas. 

“ A great many times as long as you are years 
old,” answered Massea. “ At last they grew tired 
of living all alone, so they made some birds. They 
made the birds that live on fish, such as the king- 
fisher, the duck, and the eagle. Among them 
was a very small duck. This duck dived down 
to the bottom of the water and came up with its 
beak full of mud. When it came to the top it 
died ; then it lay floating on the water. 

“ The hawk and the crow then gathered the 
mud from the duck’s mouth.” 

“ What did they do with it? ” asked Alachu. 

“ Keep still, Alachu, and let father tell the 
story,” said Docas. 

“ They began to make the mountains. They 
began away south. We call the place Tehachapi 
Pass now. The hawk made the eastern range, and 
the crow made the western. Little by little, as 
they dropped in bit after bit of the earth, the 
mountains grew. By and by they rose above the 
water. Finally the hawk and the crow met in 
the north at Mount Shasta. When they com- 
pared their mountains, the eastern range was 
much smaller than the western. 

“ Then the hawk said to the crow, ‘You have 
played a joke on me. You have taken some of 
the earth out of my bill. That is why your moun- 
tains are larger.’ 


42 


DOCAS. 


“ It was so, and the crow laughed in his claws. 
The hawk did not know what to do, but at last 
he got an Indian weed and chewed it. This 
weed made him very wise, so he took hold of the 
mountains and slipped them round in a circle. 
He put the range he had made in place of the 
other. That is why the mountains east of the 
big valley are now larger than our Coast Range.” 

THE MEASURING-WORM ROCK. 

W HEN Massea had finished his story, Docas 
said, “ Tell us another, father!” 

“ Yes, tell us another ! ” cried all the children. 
By this time every child in the rancheria had 
come to listen. 

“ Very well,” said Massea. “ When I was over 
in the great mountains, I saw a valley, the Yosem- 
ite, with one rocky wall going up out of it a 
mile high. The Indians over there told me a 
story about that rock. There were once two 
little boys living in a valley. These boys went 
down to the river to swim, and after they had 
paddled about awhile, one said, ‘ I am going on 
shore to take a sleep.’ 

I am going with you. We will lie down in 
the sun on that rock,’ said the second boy. 

“ They both lay down on the rock and fell fast 
asleep. They slept so long that winter came and 


AT THE INDIAN VILLAGE. 


43 


then the next summer. Another summer and 
winter came, and still they slept on. Summer 
after summer went by, and still the children did 
not wake. 

“ Meanwhile the rock on which they lay was 
rising slowly into the air. Day after day, and 
night after night, it rose higher and higher, until 
soon they were up beyond the reach of their 
friends. Far up, far up they went until their faces 
scraped the moon, and still the children slept. 

“ At length all the animals came together, for 
they intended to get the boys down in some way. 

“ ‘ Suppose we all make a spring up the wall. 
Some of us will be sure to reach the top,’ said 
the lion. 

“ ‘ Agreed,’ said the others. 

“ One by one they began to jump. The little 
mouse jumped up a hand-breadth. The rat 
jumped two hand-breadths. The raccoon jumped 
a little higher ; and so on. 

“All the smaller animals had failed when the 
grizzly bear came to take his turn. 

I shall jump far higher than any of you. I 
shall get to the top,’ said the bear. 

“ He gave a tremendous leap, but he, too, failed. 

“ Last of all came the lion. ‘ It is not strange 
that you have all failed. You are not lions. But 
I am the king of beasts. I shall bring the little 
boys down,’ said he. 


44 


DOCAS. 


“ He stepped back from the wall, then he ran 
and jumped with all his might. He jumped 
higher than any of the others, but the top of the 
rock was still far above him, so he fell back and 
tumbled flat on his back. 

“ Without saying anything, a tiny little measur- 
ing-worm began to creep up the rock. It was so 
tiny that none of the animals noticed it. Little 
by little, it crept slowly upward. Presently it was 
above the bear’s jump, then it was far above the 
lion’s jump, then it was out of sight.” 

“ Please hurry up, father,” said Alachu. “ I 
can scarcely wait to see if it got the little boys.” 

Massea only smiled and went on. “ So it 
crawled up, and up, and up, through many win- 
ters, and at last it reached the top.” 

“ Goody ! ” cried Alachu, clapping her hands. 
“ Then what did it do 1 ” 

“ Then the measuring-worm took the little 
boys and brought them down the way it went 
up.” 


THE FIRST WHITE MAN. 

O NE morning Massea said, “I am going out 
to hunt deer to-day.” 

Docas went to a corner of the cave and got a 
deer’s head with the horns on it, and gave it to 
Massea. Massea took the head, picked up his 


AT THE INDIAN VILLAGE. 


45 


bow and arrows, and went away. He carried it 
until he had walked nearly to the top of the 
mountains, then he tied the deers head on top of 
his own head. 

After that he looked as if he were a deer him- 
self as he walked along through the bushes. He 
did this so that he would not frighten any deer 
which might see him coming. 

By and by he saw some deer not very far off. 
He bent down so that only his horns showed 
above the bushes ; then he walked toward the 
deer. They looked up when they heard the 
noise, and saw the deer’s head coming toward 
them. “ It’s nothing but another deer,” they 
thought. 

Massea kept walking closer and closer to them, 
until he was so near that he was sure he could hit 
them. Then he raised his bow, put the arrow 
into its place, pulled the string, and took good 
aim. He let go the string, and the arrow flew. 
Ifi a minute more a large deer was lying dead, 
and the others were running away. 

Massea went up to the dead deer. When he 
saw how large it was he said to himself, “ That 
will give Ama and Docas something to eat for a 
long time.” He threw the deer over his shoulder 
and started to carry it home. 

After a while he became tired, so he lay down 
to rest under a big redwood tree. By and by he 


46 


DOCAS. 


heard a noise and looked up, and there, a little 
way off, were three deer. He picked up his 
bow and arrows to shoot, but saw something 
that surprised him so much that he stopped. 

He saw two men with white skins. They did 
not see Massea, because they too were looking at 
the deer. One of them raised something long 
and black which he had in his hand. There was 
a loud noise, and one of the deer fell dead. 

Massea was frightened, for he had never seen 
white men before. He hid himself so that they 
could not see him. He was afraid they might 
kill him in the same way that they had killed 
the deer, without even using a bow and arrow. 

They picked up their deer and went off toward 
the ocean. Massea followed a little way behind 
until he saw that they were going down the 
mountains. Then he came back to where he had 
left his deer, and carried it down to the Indian 
rancheria. You can imagine how surprised the 
Indians were when he told them what he had 
seen. 

A few days later, Docas and some of the other 
Indian boys were playing at the edge of the camp, 
when Docas heard a noise and looked up. 

“ Look ! What’s that queer animal coming 
toward us 1 ” he said. 

“ It has two heads ! ” exclaimed Heema. 

The children were so surprised that they did 



“That will §:ive Ama and Docas something to eat for a long time 










48 


DOCAS. 


not think of running. They just sat still and 
looked at this thing as it came nearer. 

“ There are three more of them,” cried Docas. 
“ They are coming toward us, too.” 

“Now the first one is stopping! Now it’s 
breaking in two 1 ” exclaimed Heema. 

In a moment more, however, the children 
found that it was not one creature. It was a 
white man riding on a queer little animal with 
long ears that wagged backward and forward. 

They walked toward Docas, and Docas called 
his father. Massea did not run away, but came 
up to where they were. The white men told 
Massea by signs that they were trying to find out 
how far the great bay extended to the south. 

Massea showed them as well as he could. 
The white men made the Indians understand 
that they were going round the bay, and that 
there were more white men camped on a creek 
a few miles back. 

After they had gone on, a great many of 
the Indians went up to the camp to see the 
white men. They took them some acorn meal 
to eat. 

At the camp they found the white chief. Gov- 
ernor Portola. The white men had more of the 
strange animals at the camp. They let Docas 
and his little brother Heema look at them as 
long as they liked. Heema said to Docas, “ Oh, 


AT THE INDIAN VILLAGE. 49 

Docas, do you think they would let me ride one 
of the queer animals a little way ? ” 

Docas said, “ I don’t know, but I will ask and 
find out.” 

The white men smiled and nodded when they 
understood what Docas wanted. Docas went to 
Heema and said, “ They do not care.” 

In a moment Heema was seated on the mule’s 
back. As the mule began to walk, Heema held 
very tightly to the saddle. 

“ Riding a mule is easy,” said Heema. 

“ Let me try,” said Docas. 

Docas led the mule to a rock, and Heema 
jumped down. Docas rode around until Massea 
said, “ It is time to go home.” 

After a day or two, the men who had gone 
south around the bay came back, then the whole 
party went away over the mountains to the ocean 
again. That was the last that Docas saw of the 
white men for eight years. 


DOCAS GOES TO THE RED HILL. 

O NE day Massea said, “ Docas, we have used 
the last of our red earth. We must go to 
the red hill and get some more.” They wanted 
the red earth to paint their bodies. 

Next morning they started very early, while it 
was still cold. They went to the creek near by 


50 


DOCAS. 


and took some mud from the bank. This they 
smeared all over their bodies to keep them warm. 
After they were covered with mud the cold wind 
did not strike the bare skin, so they were warmer. 

Then they walked south across the valley 
toward what we now call the New Almaden 
Mine. Docas was old enough and strong 
enough to walk almost as far as his father. 

A little after noon they came to the hill where 
the ‘ red earth was. They filled some baskets 
with it and sat down to rest. They soon saw 
five more Indians coming with empty baskets. 

When they came nearer Massea spoke to 
them, and asked them from what place they 
came. They said they lived over on the coast 
on the southern part of the big bay. They told 
Massea that they had gone to live at what was 
called the Carmel Mission. Massea had never 
heard of a mission before, so he asked them to 
tell him what it was. 

One of the strange Indians said, “ Some white 
men came and settled near our rancheria.” 

Docas had been sitting by his father’s side all 
this time, listening. When he heard this, he said 
to Massea, “ Oh, father, perhaps it is some of the 
white men who came past our rancheria when I 
was a little boy.” 

Massea said, “ Perhaps.” 

Then he asked the strange Indian if they were 


AT THE INDIAN VILLAGE. 


51 


the white men who had come across the moun- 
tains about eight summers ago. 

The Indian said, “ No; but they were friends.” 

He then said to Massea and Docas, “ We call 
the white men ‘father.’ They are very good to 
us. They showed us how to make a very large 
house. It is not made of brush, but is made of 
clay, and we call this house the church.” 

“ How big is it 1 ” asked Docas. 

“ It is so large that many oak trees could stand 
inside it. On the walls are things that, when 
you come in front of them, show your face clearer 
than the quietest spring of water. Then there 
are long white sticks that make a soft light when 
they are lit. But the most beautiful things in 
the church are the pictures.” 

“ What are pictures ? ” asked Massea. 

“ Flat things that hang on the wall and look 
like people,” the stranger answered. 

He stopped for a while after he had told all 
this. Massea and Docas did not say anything. 
By and by he said, “ The fathers have been kind 
to us, so I have gone to live with them. I am a 
Mission Indian now.” After this Massea and 
Docas asked him many questions about how 
they lived. 

Before he went away, Massea said to him, “ I 
think I should like to be a Mission Indian. Are 
not any of the fathers coming over across the 
mountains ? ” 


52 


DOCAS. 


The strange Indian from Monterey said, “Yes, 
a little while ago a new father, called Father Pena, 
came to our Mission. He soon started over the 
mountains to begin a new Mission. He must be 
out in the valley somewhere now.” 

After a while, Massea and Docas took up their 
baskets and started off. All the way home they 
kept talking about the Mission and what the 
Indian from Monterey had told them. 

That night, as they sat around the campfire, 
Massea told the other Indians all they had heard 
that day. Some of the Indians laughed at the 
story, but Massea said, “ If one of the fathers 
comes over here, I am going to know more about 
him. Perhaps I shall go to live with him.” 


DOCAS IN A FIGHT. 


F'EW days after this visit to the red hill. 



Massea and his family saw some white 
men coming into the rancheria. Three of them 
were riding on animals very much like those 
ridden by Portola’s men ; but these were not 
mules — they were horses. 

Each man wore a cloak of padded deerskin. 
Arrows could not go through these cloaks, so the 
white men always wore them. Sometimes the 
Indians shot arrows at them, but when they came 
to this rancheria the Indians did not try to hurt 


AT THE INDIAN VILLAGE. 


53 


them. They gave the white men some acorn 
mush to eat. 

While they were eating, Docas crept up to his 
father and said, “ Do you think that man with the 
long dark dress is the father the Indian from the 
coast told about } ” 

Massea said, “ I think so, but we will see after 
dinner.” 

The white men had an Indian with them who 
could talk both Indian and Spanish. After they 
had eaten, they began to talk to the Indians. 

Docas was right. One of the men was Father 
Pena, who had come into their valley to start a 
new mission. 

He went about ten miles farther south. There 
he started the new mission, and called it Santa 
Clara, after a very good and beautiful woman. 

One day, a few weeks later, Massea got into a 
quarrel with some Indians from another rancheria, 
about some deer they had trapped. That night 
Docas heard something go “ thud ” by the side of 
his head while he was asleep. He put out his 
hand and felt an arrow sticking in the ground 
beside the tule mat on which he was sleeping. 

“ Some one is shooting at us,” he shouted. 

Massea jumped up and got his own bow and 
arrows. He came over and felt of the arrow that 
had been shot into the hut, to see from what direc- 
tion it came. 


54 


DOCAS. 


Massea gave a long call to tell the Indians of 
their rancheria that there was danger and that 
they must help. Then he and Docas crept out 
of the house and hid behind two trees that stood 
near the front of the hut. In a moment more 
they saw some dark figures moving about in the 
direction from which the arrow had come. 

They raised their bows and were just going to 
shoot, when they heard a rustle behind them. 
They turned quickly, but before they could help 
themselves, their arms were seized and tied be- 
hind their backs. 

“ Now we have you,” said the strange Indians. 

Some of the strange Indians hurried into the 
hut and brought out Ama, Heema, and Alachu 
and took them off. The others stayed to fight. 

Next day they took Massea and his family out 
to the middle of their rancheria. The Indians 
who had captured them were going to torture 
them. 

Suddenly a man in a long gray gown stood 
among them. It was Father Pena, and he was 
holding up a cross. 

He said, “ My children, what are you doing ? 
Do you know that it is wrong for you to torture 
your neighbors ? Let them go.” 

These Indians loved Father Pena already and 
wanted to do as he told them, so they let Massea 
go, and all his family with him. 


PART II. 


WHEN DOCAS LIVED AT THE MISSION. 



He decided to go to the Mission to live. 







PART II. 


WHEN DOGAS LIVED AT THE MISSION. 

DOCAS GOES TO LIVE AT THE MISSION. 

A fter Father Pena had saved Massea from 
' being tortured, Massea liked him very much, 
— so much that he decided to go to the Mission 
to live. 

Therefore after a few days they gathered to- 
gether their baskets, their bows and arrows, and 
some seeds. Then they were ready to start, for 
they had nothing more to take with them. Docas 
walked with Heema, his little brother. Massea 
walked at the side of Ama, who was carrying 
Keoka, Docas’s baby sister. Alachu trotted be- 
hind. 

When they came to the Mission they found 
that some of the Indians who were already there 
had helped Father Pena to build a very large 
brush house. This the Father called a church. 
Near it was the Father’s hut, and off at one side 
were the huts of the Indians. These huts were 
built in rows, but they were of brush just as they 
had always been. 


57 


58 


DOCAS. 


As soon as they arrived, Docas and Massea 
went off a little way to the creek, where there 
were many willow trees growing. They broke 
off the leafy branches and carried them up to 
the Mission to make their own hut. When they 
had a large pile of branches they began to 
build it. 

First they stuck one end of a branch into the 
ground. They did that with all the branches 
until they had a circle, putting the branches so 
close together that Docas could hardly look be- 
tween them. 

When the circle was finished, they bent all the 
tops of the branches together and tied them; 
then they covered the house with dry grass. 

The Father tried to get Massea to build a bet- 
ter kind of house ; he said he would show him 
how to do it, for the brush house was too cold. 
But Massea said, “ No ; we like this kind of house. 
When it gets too dirty, we will burn it down and 
build another.” 

They left a little hole for a door. They left it 
open all the time because they had nothing with 
which to close it. 

After the house was finished and the baskets 
were put away in it, they all went to help their 
friends build their houses. One of the Indians 
who was already living at the Mission brought 
them a bundle of straw, which Massea put across 


AT THE Mission. 


59 


the hole in front of their house. That meant to 
any Indian who might come to see them, “We are 
away from home, and shall be gone some time.” 


BREAKFAST AT THE MISSION. 

\ T EXT morning Ama got up very early. She 
^ ^ went down to the creek bed and hunted 
about until she found two stones that she liked. 
One was large and flat on top; the other was 
small and long, with one end that had been worn 
smooth by the water. She wanted to make a 
new mortar and pestle, for the old ones were so 
heavy that she had not brought them with her. 

Ama carried her corn down to the creek, put 
it on the big stone, and tried to pound it with the 
little one ; but the corn flew all over the ground, 
for there was no hole worn yet in the top of the 
flat rock. 

She poured some more corn on the top of the 
flat stone, but this time she did not pound it so 
hard. Even then she could not grind it very well, 
but by and by it was fine enough so that she 
could make mush of it. 

She started to go to the hut to tell Docas to 
make a fire. Just as she climbed up the bank 
the sun came over the top of the mountain. It 
shone on the queer, shiny thing that looked some- 
thing like a basket upside down. This thing 


6o 


DOCAS. 


hung between two posts by the church, and it 
was shining so brightly now that Ama could 
hardly look at it. 

At the same moment that the sun rose, she 
heard something go, “ Clang, clang, clang! ” The 
sound seemed to come from this same shiny thing. 

It waked Massea and Docas, and they came 
running out of the hut to see what was the mat- 
ter. In a few minutes all the other people in the 
village came out of their huts, too. 

Everybody seemed to be going toward the 
shiny thing that made the noise. So Ama 
snatched up little Keoka, and they all followed 
after the other people to see what was the 
matter. 

They found that all the Indians were going into 
the big brush house, and they followed. As the 
people went in they knelt down. Massea said, 
“ I am going to do as other people do,” so he 
knelt down, too. Then he took Ama and the 
children and went to a corner of the house to see 
what was going to happen. 

Up in the front of the house some of the long 
white sticks were burning that the Indian from 
Monterey had told about. In a few minutes 
more Docas heard the sweetest sound! Heema 
began to talk to him just then, but Docas said, 
“Stop! I want to listen.” 

In a few minutes some more boys came in, all 


AT THE MISSION. 


6 


singing. Docas could not understand anything 
they said, but he liked the sound. 

Then Father Pena came out and said some- 
thing, but Docas could not understand that 
either. After the little boys had sung, everybody 
got up and went out of the house. Massea and 
his family followed, and they all went back to 
their homes. 

Ama asked Docas to build the fire. He found 
some dry sticks and soon had a fire roaring. 
Just then a strange little Mission boy with a red 
skirt on came up. “ What are you building that 
fire for ? ” he said. 

“ For my mother to cook breakfast,” answered 
Docas. 

“We don’t do that here at the Mission,” said 
the strange Indian boy. 

“ Don’t have any breakfast ? ” asked Docas. 
Docas was almost ready to wish he were back 
at the old rancheria, if he could not have any 
breakfast. 

“ Oh, no ! ” said the boy. “ I meant that each 
family does not get its own breakfast.” 

“ Then who does get it ? ” asked Docas. 

“ Well, you see my mother and some of the 
other women stayed home and got breakfast 
ready for all of us while we were at mass,” said 
the boy. Then he asked, “ Where is your 
mother 


62 


DOCAS. 


“ She is down at the creek trying to grind 
some more corn while I build the fire,” answered 
Docas. 

“ Let’s surprise her,” said the boy. “ Have 
you some baskets } Get one, and we will go and 
get the breakfast while she is gone.” 

Docas went into the hut and brought out one 
of the flat baskets. The boy looked at it ; then 
he said, “ Haven’t you any deeper basket } They 
give you so much to eat here.” Docas went 
back, and this time he brought out one of the 
deep baskets in which Ama used to carry the 
grass-seed. Then they went off. 

Soon Ama came back. She looked all round, 
but could not find any fire. “ I wonder what has 
become of Docas,” she said. 

Docas had not put any big wood on the fire, 
but only some small sticks, so by the time Ama 
came up from the creek it was all burned out. 

In a little while Ama saw . Docas coming toward 
them, carrying a basket very carefully in his hands. 
The other Indian boy was with him. 

“ I wonder where he has been and what he is 
carrying in that basket. I should think he would 
be hungry himself, and build the fire, instead of 
running off to play before breakfast,” thought 
Ama. 

In a minute more Docas set the basket down 
at her feet. She looked into it, then she said. 


AT THE MISSION. 63 

“ Why, it is filled with mush. Where did you 
get it ? ” 

Docas then told Ama about the big boilers full 
of mush, and how every family sent and got its 
breakfast from them. 

The strange little boy, whose name was Yisoo, 
said, “ Good-by ; I will be back after breakfast, 
but I must hurry now and take our breakfast 
home.” 


THE MISSION SCHOOL. 

A F'TER a little while Yisoo came back. “ Come 
now; it is time to go to school,” said he. 

“ What is school ? What do you do there ? ” 
asked Docas. 

“ Why, it’s a place where all the Indian boys go 
every day. They just say over things that the 
Father tells them.” 

“ Is that all ? I don’t think that’s any fun,” 
said Docas. 

“ No, it isn’t,” said the boy; “ but I tell you what 
is fun,” he added. “ If you have a good voice, the 
F'ather will teach you to sing and maybe he 
will teach you to play on a violin.” 

Docas was glad to hear that perhaps he could 
learn to sing, for he loved music. As they walked 
along Yisoo told Docas about what he must do 
at school. 


64 


DOCAS. 


As they came out of the school, Yisoo said to 
Docas, “ I can beat you home.” They both 
started off on a run, but Docas came out a little 
ahead. Yisoo looked at his bare legs and said, 
“ You know how to run.” 

Docas said, “Yes; but you see I haven’t so 
many clothes on as you.” 

“ I must take you after dinner to get some 
clothes like mine,” said Yisoo. 

They hurried to get their baskets and go for 
the dinner. For dinner they had some meat as 
well as mush. Father Pena told the women who 
were giving out the dinner that both Docas and 
Yisoo had studied very hard that morning, and 
if there were any scraps of dinner left they should 
have them. So Docas and Yisoo had a big 
dinner that day, for when they came back, the 
women gave them each an extra piece of meat 
and a little cake made of corn. 

After dinner, Yisoo said, “ Now we will go for 
your clothes.” 

They went to the house where the Indian 
clothes were kept. Father Pena went with them 
and gave Docas a suit of clothes just like Yisoo’s. 
Docas liked them very much, for the jacket was 
white and the shirt was scarlet. 

After Docas was dressed. Father Pena said, 
“ Haven’t you a brother and a sister.^ ” 

“ Yes, Father,” said Docas. 


AT THE MISSION. 


65 


“ Then take them each a suit of clothes, too. 
All the children here wear the same kind of 
clothes,” said Father Pena. 


RAISING CORN. 

T he place the Fathers first selected for the 
Mission was very low, and before they had 
lived there many winters, a great rain made the 
creek overflow its banks and flood the Mission. 

“ This place is too low ; we must move farther 
away from the creek,” said the Fathers, as they 
watched the muddy water swirling about among 
their houses. 

So before long the entire Mission was moved 
three miles away to a safe place. 

Father Joseph was the name of the younger 
of the two Fathers. He had charge of the Mis- 
sion gardens, and one day in May he walked 
out among the gardens that had been planted. 
Massea was at work pulling weeds. As Father 
Joseph came near, he said, “ Massea, our garden 
needs more water.” 

Massea said, “Yes, it is too dry; but there will 
be no rain for three or four months yet.” 

“ What can we do to bring some water to the 
garden said Father Joseph. “ I wonder if we 


66 


DOCAS. 


could not make a long ditch from the Guadalupe 
Creek around our garden and then back to the 
creek again.” 

“ It would bring the water, but it would be 
much work, Father,” said Massea. 

“We have many Indians who could work,” 
said Father Joseph. “ I will ask Father Pena 
what he thinks about it.” 

Father Pena thought the idea was a good one. 
So in a few days, after they had marked out the 
course of the ditch, there were two hundred 
Indian men at work digging. Even Docas 
worked after school was done. They worked 
so hard that in a few weeks the ditch was made, 
and part of the water of the creek was flowing 
through it. After that the gardens were never 
dry any more. 

The children liked the ditch too, for it was 
such a fine place to go wading in. Heema made 
tiny boats out of tules^ as nearly like Massea’s 
big boat as he could. Even Docas liked to 
watch his little brother and sister sail their boats 
on the water in the ditch. 

By the side of the irrigating ditch grew many 
rows of corn. When it was ripe, Massea went 
to his house and got a very large, deep basket. 

Docas said, “ Where are you going, father? ” 

1 Tu'le, a large bulrush growing abundantly on overflowed land in 
California and elsewhere. 



Massea gathering corn 






68 


DOCAS. 


“ Father Joseph told me to get this basket and 
cut the corn,” said Massea. 

“ May I go with you, father ? ” asked Alachu. 

“Yes, if you will not get in the way,” said 
Massea. 

So Massea carried his basket to the cornfield, 
and Alachu trotted along by his side. He went 
down each row of corn, cutting off the heads 
and putting them into his basket. Sometimes 
he happened to drop a head, but when he did 
that, Alachu picked it up for him, and he put it 
into his basket. 

When the basket was full, he carried it to the 
end of the field where Docas was waiting with 
a cart drawn by oxen. Massea emptied the 
baskets into the cart until it was full; then Docas 
drove the cart to a storehouse. 

One rainy day in winter when they could not 
work outside. Father Joseph said to a number 
of the Indian men, “ I want you to go to the 
storehouse to-day to husk corn.” 

After school Docas went to the storehouse, too, 
and found Massea sitting on the floor with the 
other men. Massea tied a few empty husks 
together; then he took the ears that Docas had 
husked. He rubbed a full ear against the husks 
until all the grains of corn had dropped down 
into the basket on the floor. 

Then it was ready to be roasted. 


AT THE MISSION. 


69 


THRESHING THE GRAIN. 

O NE morning Massea took the rough wooden 
plough and went out to a smooth piece 
of ground near the Mission. He began to plough 
the ground in a circle, not ploughing very deep, 
but only loosening the top. 

Heema and Alachu were wading in the irrigat- 
ing ditch. 

Alachu said, “See ! father is making a garden.” 
“ That’s a queer place to make a garden,” said 
Heema. 

They did not pay any more attention, but 
went on wading. 

That afternoon Docas and some other boys 
and men went out with Massea to make a tight 
fence around the circle Massea had ploughed. 
Docas tied the fence together with rawhide 
strings so that it could not come apart. 

After the fence was built, Massea poured water 
over the top of the ground. Then the men drove 
a band of wild horses into the circle and closed 
up the gate so that they could not get out. 

When the children saw the horses going into 
the circle, they all ran to see what was going to 
happen. Docas peeped through a hole in the 
fence. He could see the horses standing around 
inside, so he called Yisoo to come and peep 
through, too. 


70 


DOCAS. 


One horse was standing near the hole in the 
fence. When he heard Docas call, he pricked 
up his ears, ducked his head, kicked up his heels, 
and started off on a run. As soon as one horse 
began to run all the other horses began to run, too. 
The children clapped their hands, and the men 
yelled, so the horses kept on running round and 
round. 

By the time Father Joseph told Massea to let 
them out, the ground was tramped as smooth and 
hard as cement. 

Then Massea and Docas began hauling wheat 
from the fields in the big ox-carts, and piling it 
up in the middle of the circle on the hard ground. 
Heema had to go to school most of the time, but 
Alachu rode out with Docas in the empty cart, 
and came back on the top of the load. 

One day Docas piled the cart very full. When 
he was ready to go, he gave Alachu a toss up on 
the load, but he tossed her so hard that, instead 
of staying on top, she slipped clear off on the 
other side. Docas saw her slide off and heard a 
thud on the ground. He ran around the back 
of the cart, but he could not see Alachu. He 
could see only a pile of grain on the ground. 

“Alachu!” he called. In a moment the grain 
on the ground began to shake, and Alachu’s 
head came up out of the middle of it. A big 
bunch had slid off with her and covered her up. 


AT THE M/SS/OAT. 


71 


Docas was afraid she was hurt, but when she 
began to laugh, he picked her up, and this time 
he set her very carefully on top of the hay in the 
cart. 

By and by there was a big stack of grain in 
the centre of the circle. Massea spread some of 
the grain out on the open space between the 
stack and the fence, and the men turned the 
horses in again. Again the horses ran round 
and round until they had tramped all the wheat 
out of the grain. 

Massea said to Docas, “ Run, Docas. Go and 
get the pitchforks.” 

Docas ran to a house near the Father’s and 
brought back four big, wooden pitchforks. Docas 
gave Massea a pitchfork. He also gave Yisoo’s 
father one; then he gave one to Yisoo, and kept 
one for himself. 

They went inside the circle and tossed the 
straw over the fence. Of course the pitchforks 
would not lift the wheat, so it stayed on the 
ground. They kept on putting down new layers 
of grain and letting the wild horses run over it 
and trample the wheat out, until there was no 
longer any stack in the middle. 

Yisoo had the wooden shovels ready, and they 
shovelled all the wheat into a pile in the centre 
of the circle. Some of it they swept into the pile 
with brush brooms. 


72 


DOCAS. 


“ What dirty wheat ! I don’t want to eat any 
mush made of that wheat. It’s all full of little 
pieces of chaff,” said Alachu. She shivered as 
she spoke, for a cold wind was blowing. 

“ Don’t you want to come inside the fence ? 
It is warmer inside,” said Docas. Alachu went 
inside and ran over to Docas, but he said, “ No, 
you must not stay here. Go across to the other 
side of the circle, close to the fence.” 

In a moment more she saw why Docas made 
her go over to the other side of the circle. Docas 
threw a big shovelful of the grain and chaff up 
into the air. 

The chaff was light, and the wind blew it away, 
but the grain fell back to the ground. The air 
was so full of the bits of flying chaff that Alachu 
could hardly see the fence where she had been 
standing at first. 

GETTING READY TO MAKE BRICKS. 

O NE morning. Father Pena came to Massea. 

“ I received a letter yesterday saying that a 
ship has come to San Francisco,” he said. “ It has 
brought some pictures for the church at our Mis- 
sion. I want you to go to San Francisco with 
an ox-cart and bring the pictures back.” 

Father Pena gave Massea charge of many 
things. Massea had been a chief at his Indian 



Threshing the grain. 


74 


DOCAS. 


rancheria, and so Father Pena sent him for the 
pictures. 

Docas went with Massea. As they rode along 
they passed their old rancheria, which was de- 
serted now. 

“ Where have the Indians gone ” asked 
Docas. 

“ They went away across the mountains toward 
the rising sun,” answered Massea. “ They live 
now in the big valley down by Tulare Lake.” 

The next day they came to San Francisco. 
Docas was much interested in the big, new 
church that the Indians had just finished build- 
ing. It was made of adobe bricks instead of 
brush. 

They loaded the pictures into the cart and 
started home. As they went slowly along, Docas 
said, “ Why don’t we have a big, new church like 
the one here at the Mission Dolores 1 I hate to 
put these new pictures in the old brush house.” 

“ We are going to build one very soon. 
Father Pena told me so just before we started,” 
said Massea. 

The day after Massea and Docas came home 
from San Francisco, Father Pena came to Docas 
and said, “ Docas, where is the best clay bank ” 

Docas thought a moment. Then he answered, 
“ At the back of Yisoo’s house. Every time we 
try to walk across it after a rain we get stuck.” 


AT THE MISSIOlSr. 


75 


“ Let’s go and take a look at it,” said Father Pena. 

When they got there, they found Heema and 
Alachu making little clay mortars and pestles out 
of the adobe mud. 

“ They play here every day,” said Docas. 

Father Pena picked up a dry mortar that Ala- 
chu had made a few days before. It had dried 
very smoothly, with no cracks in it. Father Pena 
nodded his head. “ I think this adobe will do,” 
he said. 

On the next day Father Joseph and a number 
of the other men came out to the adobe bank. 

“ Dig up a patch of adobe,” said father Jo- 
seph to Massea. 

The children all stood around and watched 
while Massea dug. 

“ Now pour some water on the adobe and mix 
it up,” said Father Joseph. 

In a few minutes Massea said, “ It doesn’t 
mix easily. The adobe is in such large lumps.” 

“Jump in, children, and dance around in the 
adobe. That will break up the lumps and make 
the adobe into a smooth paste,” said Father 
Joseph. 

Docas, Yisoo, and a number of the other boys 
jumped in. 

“Take hold of hands and make a ring,” said 
Docas. “ Now we will play we are having an 
eagle dance.” 


76 


DOCAS. 


“ It’s great fun ! ” said Yisoo. 

“ I’m stuck ! ” cried Docas. Yisoo and the 
other boys ran to him and pulled him loose from 
the big sticky lump in which his feet had stuck. 

They jumped faster and faster. “ You’re jump- 
ing on my toes,” cried Yisoo to Docas. 

Then they both laughed, for Yisoo was not 
hurt. 

They jumped about so fast that very soon they 
had crushed every lump. 

While the children were jumping, Massea was 
sitting on the ground near by, chopping tules. 
He carried the chopped tules to where the chil- 
dren were jumping. 

“ Stop jumping a minute while I throw these 
in. Then you can mix them with the adobe,” 
said Massea. 

“What are the broken tules for ” asked 
Docas. 

“To make the bricks stick together better,” 
answered Massea. 

While the children were mixing the tules into 
the adobe paste, the men were busy, carrying 
piles of wooden moulds out from the Father’s 
house. 

When the adobe was smooth. Father Joseph 
said, “ Now watch me make the first brick.” He 
filled a mould with the mixture of adobe, tule, and 
water. “ Now help me carry the mould to a 



And there was another brick 


78 


DOCAS. 


smooth piece of ground,” said Father Joseph to 
Docas. 

The mould had a bottom that slid out. Father 
Pena pulled the bottom out from under it after 
they set it down. Then he raised the sides of 
the mould, and the brick was left flat on the 
ground. 

“ What a nice brick ! ” said Alachu. She ran 
forward, and before any one could stop her, she 
put her hand down and tried to lift the brick. It 
was still soft, and her fingers made marks on it. 

Father Joseph said, “You will have to wait 
until it dries.” 

Docas had watched very closely. He went 
back to the hole and filled a mould ; then he and 
Heema brought it out to the smooth piece of 
ground. They put it down near the first brick, 
pulled out the bottom and raised the sides just 
as they had seen Father Joseph do. And there 
was another brick. 

Soon a great many Indians were at work mak- 
ing the bricks, and after a little while there were 
rows and rows of bricks drying in the sun. They 
were left lying flat until they were about two- 
thirds dry; then Docas went around and turned 
them up on their edges. 


AT THE MISSION, 


79 


GETTING THE TIMBERS. 

O NE day Heema jumped into the hut where 
Ama was sitting. “ Where’s Docas ? ” he 
asked. 

“ Out making bricks. What do you want of 
him ? ” answered Ama. 

“We are going up into the mountains to get a 
big tree. Father Joseph wants him to come and 
help drag it down.” Before Ama could answer 
him he was off to find Docas. 

Soon Father Joseph, Docas, Heema, and a great 
many other Indian men and boys started off for 
the mountains where the redwood trees grow. 
They took several oxen and several chains with 
them. The day before, Massea and two other 
men had gone up to the hills to fell the trees. 

About noon the party came to the place where 
Massea was. He had two trees cut down, ready 
for them. They rested and ate some dried deer 
meat. After that they fastened the oxen to one 
of the trees that Massea had cut down; then 
they drove back to the Mission. The log 
dragged along behind the oxen until it reached 
the Mission. 

Massea had cut down two trees. There were 
no oxen left to drag the second tree to the Mis- 
sion, so Docas helped fasten some long chains to 


8o 


DOCAS 


the log. Then all the Indian men and boys took 
hold of the chains and dragged the log down to the 
Mission themselves. It was not very hard work, 
for there were almost a hundred Indians pulling. 

Early the next day they began to chop at one 
of the logs with their axes to make it square. 
When Massea saw that one side of it was flat he 
said, “ Stop.” Massea and the other men tried 
to roll the log over on the other side, but it did 
not move at first. 

“ It is heavy,” said one of the men. 

“Yes, but we must roll it over so that we can 
smooth the other side,” said Massea. 

They gave another big pull all together, and 
the log rolled over. 

At last, instead of a rough log with bark on 
it, it was a smooth, square piece of timber ready 
to use in building the church. 


BUILDING THE CHURCH. 



FTER they had made many bricks. Father 


Joseph came to Massea and Docas and said, 
“We can begin to build the church now.” 

Alachu had been playing with some of the 
broken bricks. That night she said to Docas, 
“ I think you can’t build a very big church.” 

“ Why not ? ” asked Docas. 

“ It will tumble down,” said Alachu. “ I built 



The day before, Massea and two men had gone to the hills to fell 

the trees. 







82 


DOCAS. 


up a brick wall that was not any higher than I am, 
and it fell over while I went to get some more 
bricks.” 

“ Oh, but we are going to make ours thick. 
Father Joseph told father to-day that we should 
make the walls three feet thick. Besides, we shall 
fasten the bricks together with mortar.” 

“ What’s mortar } ” asked Alachu. 

“ Sticky stuff to keep the bricks together,” 
answered Docas. 

Next morning they began to build the Mission 
church. Day after day they worked. Massea 
and some of the men spread the mortar and laid 
the bricks, while Docas and other men and boys 
made more bricks. 

It took so many, many bricks ! 

When the side walls and the end walls were 
made. Father Joseph told Massea to bring two 
of the square timbers, and set them up exactly in 
the center of each of the end walls. It was hard 
work getting them in place. Docas had to pull 
with all his might. 

When they were putting up the timbers, Docas 
saw that Father Joseph had had some of the 
Indians make a large notch in the upper end of 
each. He wanted to ask what the notch was for, 
but he had asked so many questions since he 
came to live at the Mission that he thought he 
would wait and see. 


AT THE MISSION-. 


83 


As soon as the two posts were up, Father 
Joseph had the Indians lay a long tree from one 
to the other in order to make the ridgepole. 
The ridgepole lay snugly in the notch on top, so 
that it could not roll off. But even with the 
notch. Father Joseph said the ridgepole would 
not be steady enough. So he gave Docas some 
strings made of rawhide, and told him to climb 
up the posts. 

“ What for } ” asked Docas. 

“To tie the ridgepole fast to the posts,” an- 
swered Father Joseph. 

Docas had climbed many a tree when making 
storehouses for acorns, so that it was easy for 
him to climb the posts. He sat on top of the 
ridgepole after he had finished tying the posts 
together. Alachu was watching him from below. 
He waved his hand to her, and she waved hers 
back. 

“ I do hope Docas won’t fall,” said Alachu to 
Heema. Docas knew that Alachu was a little 
frightened, so he thought, “ I’ll show her what a 
big boy like me can do.” He slipped out on the 
pole and swung himself around on it until he was 
hanging by his knees. Then he pulled himself 
up again on top of the pole. 

Alachu called out, “ Do be careful, Docas ! ” 

“ I’m all right. Don’t be scared,” he called 
back. Then he stood up carefully and started to 


84 


DOCAS. 


walk along the top of the ridgepole; but the 
pole was round and slippery, and he slipped. He 
would have fallen to the ground, but he caught 
hold of the ridgepole with one hand. He drew 
himself up again. Then he crawled back to the 
nearest post, slid down, and climbed off the wall 
to the ground. 

Meanwhile, some of the Indians had been mak- 
ing curved tiles for the roof. The tiles were 
made of the same adobe mud as the bricks, but 
were baked in fires instead of being dried by the 
sun. 

Alachu looked up at the ridgepole, then she 
looked at the tiles. 

“ They’ll not reach from the ridgepole to the 
wall. They will fall through,” said she. 

“ Not when we get ready to put them on,” said 
Docas. 

Massea had brought down from the mountains 
a great many smaller trees. The Indians pulled 
the bark from these, and laid them in rows from 
the ridgepole to the outer wall. Across these 
Massea and Docas wove a network of twigs just 
as they did when they made the storehouse. They 
tied all these trees tightly to the ridgepole so that 
nothing could slip. 

“There,” said Docas to Alachu, “do you think 
the tiles will fall through now when we lay them 
on top of that ? ” 


AT THE MISSION. 


85 


So, after much work, the big church was built 
The floor was covered with large, square bricks, 
the pictures were hung, the candles were put up. 
The images of the saints were placed around the 
walls. Near the front was a beautiful banner on 
which was a picture of the Mother of Jesus. 

Docas was happy, for he was no longer afraid 
that their lovely things would get spoiled by the 
rain. 


VISIT OF FATHER SERRA. 

B y the time the church was built, Docas could 
sing very well. One day Father Pena gave 
him a new hymn to learn. 

“ It is very hard. Father,” said Docas. 

“Yes, but it is very beautiful, and I want you 
to be able to sing it when Father Junipero Serra 
visits us,” said Father Pena. 

“ I would do anything for Father Serra,” an- 
swered Docas. “ He loves us so.” 

So every day after that for several weeks Docas 
practised his new hymn until he knew it perfectly. 
Yisoo learned it also. 

“ Father Serra will be pleased,” said Father 
Pena, one day when Docas had sung the hymn 
very well. 

Sometimes, when Docas was tired of singing, 


86 


DOCAS. 


Father Pena told him stories of Father Serra. 
Once he told Docas how Father Serra had 
walked hundreds of miles to start the Missions. 

One morning soon after they were in school, 
Massea, who had been out in the fields, came 
hurrying up to the schoolroom. 

“ Father Serra is coming ! ” he called out. 
Father Pena dismissed the school, and went out 
to meet Father Serra. They were very glad to 
see each other, for they had not met for a long 
time. 

Father Pena took Father Serra all over the 
Mission. He showed him the fields and gardens, 
and the Indian village a little way from the 
church. 

Father Serra said, “ I am pleased to see how 
well you are getting started.” 

This was his first visit to the Mission Santa 
Clara since the new church was built. 

The next day was Sunday. Docas was excited, 
because Father Serra was to say the mass, and he 
was to sing his new hymn. 

The church was full, for the white people who 
had just come to live at San Jose, about three 
miles away, had come to church, too. By this 
time most of the Indians knew when to kneel 
and when to make the sign of the cross, but 
Massea stood in the aisle with a long stick. It 
was his duty to watch the other Indians. If one 


AT THE MISSION. 8/ 

of them forgot to kneel down at the right time 
Massea poked him with the end of the stick. 

After the mass, Father Serra preached ; then 
Docas and Yisoo sang their hymn. After they 
had sung each verse, they waited for the people 
to sing it over after them. 

When the service was over, Docas, Yisoo, and 
all the other Indians who had learned to play, 
took their violins and walked toward Father 
Pena’s house, playing dance music all the way. 
Father Pena and Father Serra walked along with 
them. 

As they reached Father Pena’s house, Father 
Serra happened to notice Docas. He turned and 
said to him, “ Love God, my son.” 

Docas answered, “ Love God, Father.” 

Father Serra then said, “ Are you not one of 
the two boys who sang in church 1 ” 

“Yes, Father,” answered Docas. 

“You have studied well; I am pleased with 
you,” said the Father. 

Father Serra stayed until next morning, and 
then he went to San Francisco. 


88 


DOCAS. 


VISIT OF CAPTAIN VANCOUVER. 

B y and by Docas grew to be a man, and had 
children of his own. 

One day, as he was going home to dinner, he 
saw some white men ride up to the Fathers 
house. He said to them, “ Welcome. I will go 
and speak to the Father.” He called Father 
Pena, who came out at once and asked the men 
to come into the house. He told Docas to take 
the horses to the stable. 

The strangers told the Father that they had 
come to California to see what new lands they 
could find and to trade a little. They were the 
officers of a ship that was anchored in the bay 
near the Mission at San Francisco. 

The common sailors were getting more wood 
and water for their ship, so the officers had been 
given horses by the Fathers of the Mission at San 
Francisco and had come down to visit the Santa 
Clara Mission. The name of the leader was 
Captain Vancouver. 

Father Pena and Father Diego, who had taken 
the place of Father Joseph, said they were glad 
to see them and that the next day would be a 
holiday at the Mission. The Fathers told the 
Indians that they might have a feast then. 

Docas’s little boy, who was called Oshda, always 



0 


Docas lived in a ’dobe house. 




90 


DOCAS. 


went to Father Pena’s house at meal time to 
help wait at table. Several other Indian boys 
went also. 

Next morning, when Father Pena was eating 
breakfast with Captain Vancouver, Father Pena 
said, “ Now we’ll have some fun.” 

He called Oshda to him and told him to bring 
in a plate of pancakes. Oshda smiled, for he 
knew what was coming. He almost ran as he 
went to get the cakes. 

Oshda brought the plate of cakes and put it 
down by Father Pena. Father Pena then said, 
“ Get into line.” 

Quickly all the Indian boys placed themselves 
in a row on the other side of the room. 

Father Pena took up a cake in his hand. He 
said something funny to Captain Vancouver. 
Oshda laughed, and the moment Father Pena 
saw Oshda open his mouth to laugh, he threw 
the cake into Oshda’s mouth. Oshda had to 
stop laughing, for his mouth was full of hot pan- 
cake. 

He ate it as fast as he could, and then he was 
ready for another one. Father Pena kept throw- 
ing the cakes to the different boys, until no more 
cakes were left. 

Docas went to the Father’s house just before 
breakfast. He said to Captain Vancouver, “Some 
of the soldiers are going to catch and kill some 


AT THE MISSION. 


91 


cattle for the feast. Would you not like to go 
out and watch } ” 

Captain Vancouver said he would, so Docas 
went to the stable and saddled some of the 
Mission horses for them, and one for himself also. 
They all rode together a few miles out from the 
Mission, where the cattle were feeding. The 
soldiers rode along with them. 

The cattle were very large and would not let 
anybody come near them. Each of the soldiers 
had a long rope made of horsehair, with a noose 
at the end. He twisted one end of the line 
around the pommel of his saddle. The other 
end with the noose he swung round and round 
his head. This they called a lasso. 

The soldiers decided which one of the cattle 
they would catch first, and then several of them 
galloped toward the animal. When they got 
close enough, they all threw their lassos at the 
same time. One of the men caught his line 
around the horns of the animal, another caught 
its hind leg, and another its fore leg. 

The horses on which the soldiers were riding 
stopped short, and the animal was thrown to the 
ground, for the ropes held him tight so that he 
could not move. Then another man went up to 
him and killed him. Twenty-two of the cattle 
were caught and killed in this way before Docas 
said it was time to go home. 


92 


DOCAS. 


“We shall have a great feast to-day,” said 
Docas. 

After the feast was over, the Indians danced 
and played games. The visitors again came out 
to watch them have a play fight. 

They made Massea their chief and pretended 
that a large bundle of straw was the enemy. 
Oshda and the other boys and men got their 
bows and arrows. They jumped and danced 
around the bundle of straw, swinging their arms 
and yelling. Massea at last gave them a sign, 
and the Indians all shot their arrows at the 
straw bundle. Then they yelled louder than 
ever, for they were pretending that they had 
beaten the enemy. 

Some of them put Massea on their shoulders, 
and others danced around him. They carried 
him up in front of the Fathers and the visitors 
who were watching; then they carried him back 
to the Indian village. 

When it was time for evening service they 
stopped their games until after service and sup- 
per were over. In the evening they had a dance. 
After the visitors had stayed a day or two longer, 
they rode hack to San Francisco. 


AT THE MISSION. 


93 


PREPARING HIDES AND TALLOW. 

S Oshda grew older, he learned to throw the 



lasso. By the time he was grown he could 
lasso almost any of the cattle, no matter how fast 
his horse or the cattle were going. 

He took the skin off every animal he killed 
and cut holes around the edge. Then he put 
stakes through the holes, drove the stakes into 
the ground as far apart as the skin would stretch, 
and left the skin to dry. Sometimes there were 
large places in the hills near the Mission, where 
the skins were laid so close together you could 
not see the ground. 

Every time Oshda killed one of the cattle, he 
built a fire, hung some big iron kettles over it, 
and threw the fat parts of the cattle into these. 
Soon the kettles were full of boiling grease. 

Docas had two more children besides Oshda, — 
a boy named Pantu and a little girl named Colla. 
Pantu and Colla liked to go with Oshda when he 
melted the fat. Oshda always said, though, that 
if they went with him they must work. There 
were many things they could do to help. They 
could bring wood and build the fire, and they 
could keep it going after it was built. 

When the fire was built, and the fat meat was 
sizzling in the kettles, Oshda went off a little way 



Oshda. 


AT THE MISSION. 


95 


and dug a hole in the black adobe. Then he 
said to Pantu, “ Run and get me some clay from 
the clay bank.” The clay was wet and sticky. 
When Pantu brought it, it stuck to his fingers 
until his hands looked as if he had been making 
bricks. 

Oshda took the clay and plastered the sides 
and bottom of the hole he had dug, smoothing 
them off until they were shiny. Docas came up 
just then with some long sticks. 

Docas stuck one of the sticks in the middle of 
the hole. 

Oshda then said to the children, “ Make some 
more holes just like this one and stick the rest of 
the sticks up in them.” 

After the fire had burned for a long time and 
the grease was cooked out of the fat meat, Oshda 
and Docas took one of the kettles off the fire. 
They brought it over by the edge of the first 
hole and tipped it on its side. Pantu and Colla 
wanted to see what was going on, so they crowded 
up close. 

“ Look out ! The grease is very hot. It will 
burn you if you are not careful,” said Docas. So 
Pantu and Colla stepped back. 

Then Docas and Oshda began to pour the hot 
grease into the hole. They poured until the hole 
was full ; then they carried the kettle on to the 
next hole. 


96 


DOCAS. 


“ What are you pouring the grease out on the 
ground for ? ” asked Pantu. 

“ So that it may get hard and we shall have a 
cake of tallow to sell,” answered Docas. 

Next morning Pantu and Colla woke up very 
early. As soon as breakfast was over, they ran 
out to look at the grease in the holes. Pantu 
could run faster than Colla, so he got there first. 

“ Somebody has taken out the grease and put 
in some white stuff,” he said. 

Colla took up a long stick. She stood off a 
little way and poked the white stuff with one end 
of the stick. 

“ It doesn’t move. It’s hard,” she said. She 
poked harder, but still nothing happened. Then 
Colla went close to the hole, stretched out her 
arm, and touched the white stuff with the tip of 
her finger. “It feels greasy anyway, if it doesn’t 
look like grease,” said she. 

Pantu came up also and touched it. “ It’s cold, 
too. Perhaps it is the grease and the cold has 
made it like this. You know Oshda said the 
grease would harden,” he said. 

After a little, Docas and Oshda came along. 

“ Come, see how hard our grease is,” said Pantu. 

“Yes, it is ready to put into the cart,” said 
Oshda. 

Oshda took hold of the upper end of the stick 
and gave a big pull. The cake of tallow came 



Then Colla went close to the hole. 


98 


DOCAS. 


out of the hole with a jerk. Docas took hold' of 
the other end of the stick on the other side of the 
cake of tallow, and between them they carried it 
away to the cart. 


MAKING THE OX-CART. 



NCE Father Catala came out where Docas 


and Oshda were working. They were gath- 
ering up some hides and doubling them up with 
the hair inside. Father Catala was in charge of 
the Mission now, for Father Pena was dead. 

Father Catala said to Docas, “We must get 
our hides and tallow over to Monterey. We 
want them to be ready for the next ship that 
comes to the coast to trade. Will you not begin 
to haul them within the next few days } ” 

“Yes, Father,” said Docas. “But the cart I 
have been using has such a big axle hole in the 
wheel that I can hardly use it. The axle has 
worn the hole very large.” 

“ Make some new wheels, and take some of the 
men and begin hauling the hides. We must have 
them down there by the time the ship comes.” 

Docas told Oshda to make the wheels, so Oshda 
went back to his house and got an axe. He lived 
in an adobe house now. It had two rooms below 
and a garret above, and a garden fenced in behind 
where he kept chickens. 


AT THE Ml SSI OH. 


99 


“ Where are you going and what are you going 
to do ? ” asked Pantu, his little brother. 

I am going to cut down an oak tree to make 
some new wheels for the cart Do you want to 
come along ? ” 

Of course Pantu wanted to come along, and he 
was soon skipping by Oshda’s side. Oshda took 
such long steps that Pantu had to run part of the 
time to keep up with him. 

They had to walk quite a distance from the 
Mission before they found a tree that they liked. 
It was about two feet through. 

Oshda began chopping at the tree, while Pantu 
played about among the trees near by. Pantu 
played that he was a woodpecker and pecked 
away at the trunks of the trees. After he had 
pecked awhile, he stooped down, picked up an 
acorn, and stuck it into a little crack in the back 
of the oak tree. He pressed it in hard, so that it 
had to stick. So he ran from tree to tree. 

After a while Oshda had chopped his tree 
almost through. At last the tree began to 
tremble and crack. He stepped back to see 
which way it was going. 

As he did so he saw Pantu make a sudden dart 
across where the tree was going to fall. Pantu 
was not looking where he was going. 

“ Look out, Pantu ! ” Oshda called. 

Pantu looked up and saw the tree falling 


lOO 


DOCAS. 


toward him, so he started to run faster, but it 
was too late. The tree came down on top of 
him, knocking him to the ground. He was far 
enough from where the tree grew so that the trunk 
did not fall on him. But one of the branches 
hit him on the head and knocked him down, 
while another scratched the skin off his knee. 

He jumped up as soon as he could, for he knew 
Oshda would be frightened. Even when he was 
standing up, Oshda could not see him because 
the tree had so many branches on it, so he had 
to climb out from among the leaves and broken 
twigs. His head ached and he felt like crying, 
but he knew that Indian boys never cry. 

When Oshda saw that Pantu was not badly 
hurt, he began to chop up his tree. He found a 
place where the trunk was smooth and round ; 
he chopped off two sections, each about a foot 
wide. He smoothed them off and made a hole 
through the centre. So his wheel was really 
just a slice across the tree with a hole in the 
centre for the axle. Oshda spent several days 
making the wheel, and Pantu went out with 
him every day. 

“ There, Pantu, you may roll one of the new 
wheels home,” said Oshda at last. 

Oshda lifted the wheel up on its edge, and 
Pantu began to roll it along down the hills. 
Soon he grew careless, and the wheel slipped 


AT THE MISS /ON. 


lOI 


and fell down flat, hitting one of his toes. It was 
heavy and hurt him. 

“ Ouch! ” said Pantu. Then he stopped short. 

“You careless boy,” said Oshda. “First you 
run under a falling tree and almost get killed. 
Then you let your wheel fall down on your toes. 
You must be more careful.” 

“ I’ll try,” said Pantu, hopping about on one 
foot and holding the hurt one in his hand. 

So Oshda tipped the wheel up on its edge 
again, and this time Pantu was very careful and 
rolled it safely home without letting it slip. 

Their father, Docas, met them as they came 
home. It was almost supper time, and he had 
come out to see if they were near. He looked at 
the bump on Pantu’s head, at his skinned knee, 
and at his bruised toes. He knew that Pantu 
had not been paying attention to what he was 
about. 

Pantu looked up at his father. Docas looked 
gravely at him, so Pantu hung his head a little 
and limped into the house. 

Then Docas looked at Oshda and smiled. 
“ He’ll learn not to be so careless by the time he 
gets a few more bumps,” said Oshda, smiling. 


102 


DOCAS. 


SHIPPING THE HIDES AND TALLOW. 

N ext morning Oshda put his new wheels on 
the old cart. He then got two oxen and 
brought them in front of the cart. He put a 
strong, heavy piece of wood across just behind 
the horns of the oxen and fastened it to their 
horns with rawhide. Then he hitched this 
wooden yoke to the cart, piled the cart full of 
skins, and they were ready to go. 

Pantu said, “ Oh, father, may I go too ? I could 
attend to the soap-suds.” 

“ Yes, you may go,” said Docas. 

Oshda brought out a pail of very thick soap- 
suds and set it down in the corner of the cart. 
He also put in some soap to make more suds 
when that was gone. 

At last they started. Oshda and Docas walked 
along by the side of the oxen, and poked them 
with sharp sticks to make them go. Pantu sat 
up in front of the load of dry hides. As they 
started out, the cart jolted, the dry hides crackled, 
and the axle squeaked. It made such a noise 
that Father Catala, who was in the field half a 
mile away, heard them coming. 

When they came up to him, he said, “ You had 
better put some more soap-suds in the axle holes. 
I heard the squeaking when you first started out.” 


AT THE MISSION-. 


103 


So Pantu poured some more soap-suds on the 
axle. 

A number of other carts were going along 
filled also with hides and with tallow. Docas 
was in charge of the whole party. They travelled 
all day and camped at night, and by the evening 
of the third day they were at Monterey. 

They camped just outside of Monterey, and on 
the next day they went up into the town. They 
were wandering around, when suddenly they 
heard the *cry of “ Sail ho ! ” In a few seconds 
every one was calling “ Sail ho ! ” and running 
down to the beach. 

Pantu stood on the beach. It was evening, and 
the sun was down near the water. After a few 
moments he saw a little white spot far out on the 
water. Docas said it was the sails of the ship. 
There was a blazing path from the sun to the 
shore, so that Pantu had to shade his eyes, and 
even then he could not look long at the glowing 
water. But all of a sudden the sun seemed to 
sink into the water, and the glow faded. 

“ Oh, father ! ” called Pantu to Docas, “ the sun 
has dropped into the ocean and the water has put 
it out.” 

“ Don’t be afraid. It will come up again as 
bright and hot as ever to-morrow morning,” said 
Docas. 

Little by little the ship came nearer. Pantu 


104 


DOCAS. 


stood watching it until it grew so dark that he 
could no longer see even the white gleam of the 
sails. Docas and Oshda had been gone a long 
time. But still he stayed down at the beach, 
although it was long past supper time. 

“ Come, Pantu,you must come home,” he heard 
Oshda saying at last. 

“ But I want to see the big ship come up 
on the beach,” said Pantu. 

Oshda laughed. Then he said, “ It will not 
come anywhere near the shore.” 

Pantu said, “ How can we get the heavy hides 
and tallow into the ship if it stays away off 
there .? ” 

“ It can’t come nearer. The water is not deep 
enough. But they will send some little boats 
ashore in the morning. We shall load the hides 
into them, and they will carry them out to the 
ship,” answered Oshda. 

In the morning, Pantu was down on the beach 
very early. Soon he saw a boat leave the ship 
and come toward the shore. When a big wave 
came rolling up, the men in the boat rowed very 
hard. The wave brought them high up on the 
beach, then, as it began to run back again, the men 
jumped out into the water, seized the boat, and 
kept it from being washed back into the bay 
again. They fastened it so that no wave could 
wash it away ; then they began to load the hides. 



Docas and Oshda brought the hides and tallow down to the beach 

in the ox carts. 



io6 


DOCAS. 


Docas and Oshda brought the hides and tal- 
low down to the beach in the ox-carts. 

All the sailors had on thick woollen caps. Pantu 
wondered why they wore that kind of cap, until 
he saw how they carried the hides. 

A man came up on the dry sand where Docas 
and Oshda had piled the hides. He took up a 
hide and put it on his head. He waded out 
through the water, put the hide into the boat, 
and came back for another. 

Soon all the men in the boat, except the two 
that held it from being tipped over, were run- 
ning back and forth, carrying hides. The men 
had to be very careful not to get the hides wet, for 
they would spoil if they became damp. The 
sharp stones cut the men’s feet, but shoes could 
not be worn because the salt water would soon 
spoil them. 

After the boat was loaded, the man who steered 
stood up in the stern. Two of the men got into 
the boat and took their oars ready to row. Two 
other men stood by the side of the boat to push 
it out when the time came. They waited until a 
big wave floated the boat ; then the man who was 
steering said, “ Now ! ” 

The men outside seized hold of the boat, and 
ran out with it until the water was above their 
waists. Then they tumbled over into the boat 
and lay in the bottom, dripping wet. 


AT THE MISSION, 


107 


The men at the oars pulled as hard as they 
could, but it was of no use. A bigger wave came 
and swept the boat up high on the beach. 

The two men jumped out and turned the boat 
around so that its end pointed out to sea, and 
waited to try again. When a large wave came, 
they again ran out with the boat, and tumbled in 
after they got to deep water. 

But the big waves came so close together that 
the boat was tossed up and down in the air. 
Sometimes a big breaker would roll out from 
under the boat, and let it drop on the water so 
hard that it seemed as if the bottom would be 
broken in. Finally, a big curling wave came. 
The boat was washed around sideways. The 
swell tipped the boat up, and then partly broke 
over it. 

In a moment more, the boat was upset, and 
hides, men and oars were mixed up in the foaming 
water. They were all washed up high on the 
sand a second time. But now these hides were 
wet, so they must be stretched out in the sun to 
dry, and the boat must be loaded with some other 
hides and tallow. 

The third time the men said : “ We shall succeed 
this time. The seventh big wave is the last of 
the big ones for a while. We will wait for it.” 

So they waited until six big waves had gone by. 
When the seventh came, a quick run and a hard 


io8 


DOCAS. 


pull carried them beyond the reach of the break- 
ers, and they were safe. 

“ Do they always have such hard times getting 
off ? ” asked Pantu of a white man standing near. 

“ No,” said the man; “ the waves are unusually 
high to-day.” 


TRADING ON THE SHIP. 


FTER the hides and tallow had been sent up 



^ to the ship, the captain said that the people 
could come aboard and trade. 

The Father from the Carmel Mission near 
Monterey said he was going to visit the ship. 
He took some of his own Mission Indians with 
him. Docas, Oshda, and Pantu went along also 
to trade for their Mission. 

The sailors took them out in one of the boats. 
As the Father went on board the ship, the cap- 
tain gave orders to fire the big guns of the ship 
as a salute to him ; then the sailors showed the 
visitors all over the ship. Pantu was much 
interested. He thought, “ If only we Indians 
could have boats and ships to sail about in in- 
stead of just tule-boats ! ” 

At last the captain took them down into the 
trading-room. All around it were shelves, on 
which the goods were laid out. Father Catala 
had told Docas to bring a great many shoes and 



As the Father went on board the ’ship, the captain gave orders to 
fire the big guns as a salute to him. 



no 


DOCAS. 


axes for the Mission, so he bought those first. 
Then the captain said, “You brought so many 
hides you can still have some more things.” 

At first, Docas did not know what to take. 
There were so many new and beautiful things 
spread out before him. Soon he saw a round, 
flat, thick thing, about as big as a cake of tallow, 
with a hole through the middle of it. 

“ What is it ? ” he asked. 

“ It’s a grindstone to sharpen your axes with,” 
answered the captain. 

He showed Docas how to put a sharp edge on 
the axe with the grindstone, so Docas said he 
would take two of them. Docas also got some 
beads and a toothbrush for Pantu. 

After the Father had finished his trading, they 
all got into the boat again, and the sailors started 
to row them back to the shore. When they were 
a little way from the ship, the sailors stopped 
rowing and rested, while the men on the ship 
fired a parting salute to the Mission Father. 

All this time Pantu had been holding his tooth- 
brush tightly in one hand. He was so happy to 
think that he was going to brush his teeth just 
as the little white boys did. As soon as they got 
to land, he jumped out and ran to the creek. 
He dipped the brush into the water, and he 
rubbed and rubbed his teeth with it. He rubbed 
so hard that the blood came. 


AT THE MISSION-. 


Ill 


“ It isn’t so much fun as I thought it would be,” 
he said to himself. 

On the next day they started for home, and 
Pantu had many things to tell Colla. 

LEAVING THE MISSION. 

13 UMPTY-BUMP went the ox-cart as it rolled 
along on the wheels that had not been 
smoothed off perfectly round. 

Creakity-creak went the dry axles, saying as 
plainly as they could, “We want some more soap- 
suds. We want some more soap-suds.” 

Wobblety-jerk went the head of a small Indian 
girl who sat in the cart on some skin sacks filled 
with grain. With her were an old man and a 
boy a little older than herself. Finally her head 
gave an extra big jerk and hit against one of the 
posts at the side. 

“Just like a girl to fall asleep and then bump 
her head,” said the boy. He straightened him- 
self up and drew an old woollen cloth around 
his shoulders in imitation of the cloak worn by a 
Spanish gentleman who passed them on horse- 
back just then. 

The Spanish gentleman was Don Secundini 
Robles, who for years had been superintendent 
of the Santa Clara Mission. The old man in the 
cart was Docas, and the boy and girl were his 


I 12 


DOCAS. 


grandchildren. Their parents were Oshda and 
his wife Putsha. The girl’s name was Yappa, 
and the boy’s was Shecol. Don Secundini had 
bought a large ranch about sixteen miles north 
of the Mission and was going there to live. 
Docas and his family were going to live with him 
and be his servants. 

“ Pm so tired riding in this old ox-cart,” said 
Yappa at last. 

“ You would be more tired if you had to walk 
all the way, as I did sixty years ago when we went 
to the Mission to live,” said Docas. 

“ Why didn’t you ride } ” asked Yappa. 

“We had never seen an ox-cart then,” answered 
Docas. 

“ Tell us about the time when you were young, 
grandpa,” said Shecol. 

So Docas began and told them stories about 
the life at the old rancheria, and the fight with 
the Indians from the other rancheria. He told 
how they were saved by Father Pena from torture 
and how they went to live at the Mission. Then, 
he told them about the building of the big church, 
about the planting of the grainfields and orchards, 
about the thousands and thousands of cattle and 
horses that belonged to the Mission, and about 
the hundreds of Indians who lived under the care 
of the Fathers. “ Our Mission is not now what 
it used to be,” said Docas, sadly. 



With her were an old man and a little boy. 



14 


DOCAS. 


“ What happened to the Mission ? ” Y appa asked. 

“ The Mexican government took away the lands 
and then the Indians left. Some have gone back 
to live at the old rancherias, and some, like our- 
selves, are going to live with rich Spaniards,” 
answered Docas. 

Just then the cart stopped, and they all got out . 
at their new home. 

“ Aren’t you glad the house is not built yet } ” 
Shecol asked Yappa. “We shall have to camp 
out all the summer and we can play we are wild 
Indians again.” 

So the children trapped fish and gathered 
acorns for bread just as their grandfather told 
them he used to do. Docas was too old to work 
much, but their father and older brother, Occano, 
helped Don Secundini build the big adobe house 
near which Docas was to spend the rest of his 
life. 


PART III. 


WHEN DOCAS LIVED WITH DON SECUNDINI 
ROBLES. 





PART III. 


WHEN DOCAS LIVED WITH DON SECUNDINI 
ROBLES. 

WASH-DAY. 

“ A must soap the ox-cart well to-night, 

^ Y Occano,” said Oshda to his oldest son. 

“ What does the Sehor Robles want us to do 
to-morrow ? ” asked Occano. 

“ It is not the Sehor that wants us to-morrow. 
It is the Sehora. Now that the sun has come 
again, we are all going to start for the creek very 
early in the morning to have a wash-day,” said 
Oshda. 

Next morning, before it was daylight, the oxen 
were yoked to the cart, and lunch was stowed 
away inside. Then Donna Maria, as they called 
the Sehora Robles, climbed into the cart with 
her five children. Oshda and Occano walked by 
the side of the oxen. 

There were five horses with soiled clothes 
piled up high on their backs, led by Pantu and 
other of the Indian menservants. Putsha, Colla, 


DOCAS. 


ii8 

and other Indian women who were going to wash 
the clothes walked along by the side of the 
horses. Shecol and Yappa went too. 

Before it was light, as they went slowly along, 
they heard the howling of the coyotes and 
other wild animals. The Spanish children crept 
closer to Donna Maria then, while Shecol and 
Yappa held on to Putsha’s skirts as they walked 
along. 

As it grew light and the animals stopped howl- 
ing, Donna Maria let the children get down from 
the cart and run along picking flowers with She- 
col and Yappa. Such fun as they had climbing 
up the hillsides, gathering whole handfuls of the 
first shooting-stars and buttercups ! 

Once they all tried to run down a steep hill to 
see which one would be the first to get to a stray 
poppy that had blossomed earlier than the others. 
Shecol was ahead, but just as he reached the 
poppy, he caught his foot in a gopher hole and 
fell. The oldest Spanish boy was close behind, 
and be fell over Shecol. Yappa fell on top of 
him. The four other children were coming so 
fast that they could not stop, so they were all 
piled in a heap. 

They got on their feet again as soon as they 
could, and Yappa said, “Shecol and the poppy 
must be crushed entirely.” But when Shecol 
could be seen again they found that he was 



Colla, Putsha, and the other women put soap on the clothes ; then 

they dipped them into the creek. 




120 


DOCAS. 


laughing, and that he had happened to throw 
his arm around the poppy, so that it was not 
hurt. 

Just then they heard Donna Maria’s voice call- 
ing, “ Come, children. You will get left behind,” 
so they started off again on a run to catch up 
with the cart. Shecol gave the poppy to Yappa 
to carry ; then he turned somersaults all the way 
down to the foot of the hill. 

When they got to the cart, they filled Donna 
Maria’s lap with flowers. The smaller children 
were tired, so they sat in the back of the cart, 
with their feet hanging over behind. 

The children all liked to have the wash-day 
come, for it was like one big picnic for them. 

By and by they came to the creek. The men 
took the loads off the horses and unyoked the 
oxen. Then they turned them all loose to graze 
on the wild oats. The children helped the 
women carry the baskets of soiled clothes down 
to the rocks. 

Colla, Putsha, and the other women put soap 
on the clothes. Then they dipped them into the 
creek and rubbed them on the rocks in the creek 
bed. This made the clothes very white, for the 
wash-water was always clean and fresh. 

By noon the clothes were all washed, and the 
children had spread them out on the tops of the 
bushes to dry. Then came lunch. “ How good 


W/TH BOAT SECUNDINI ROBLES. 


I2I 


everything tastes!” said Yappa. “ VVe are so 
hungry.” . 

In the afternoon they all rested and played. 
By evening the clothes were dry, and everything 
was made ready to start for home again. 

The Spanish children were all tired, so they 
crowded down near their mother in the cart. 
There was a little room left in the cart, and they 
begged that Shecol and Yappa might come in 
with them instead of walking all the way home. 
Donna Maria said “Yes,” so Shecol and Yappa 
nestled down in a corner of the cart. 

Yappa was sleepy, and she leaned her head 
against Shecol’s shoulder. As the sun went 
down, the Indians began to sing “ Kyrie Elei- 
son.” She whispered to Shecol, “ That’s the 
song grandpa sang when he was a little boy, 
and Father Serra visited the Mission.” 

“ Yes,” said Shecol. 

The cart jolted along. The Indians kept on 
singing. A red moon came up over the moun- 
tains. A flock of wild ducks whizzed by just 
over their heads. The frogs began to croak in 
the little ponds near the road, and the crickets 
began to sing in the long grass. 

Yappa fell asleep and dreamed that she was a 
little cricket and that she. was trying to learn to 
sing “ Kyrie Eleison,” but that it was such hard 
work, because, every time she tried to sing, all 


122 


DOCAS. 


she could say was “ Katy Do.” She felt very 
badly, for she dreamed that Father. Serra was 
coming toward her and that he wanted to hear 
her sing. 

Soon she thought that Father Serra stood be- 
fore her, and said, “ I am Father Serra. Will you 
sing for me ” 

She answered, “ I will try. Father,” and began. 
But all she could say was “ Katy Do,” so she 
stopped. 

“ I am so sorry. Father, I tried to sing ‘ Kyrie 
Eleison,’ ” she said. 

“You have done well, dear girl,” said the Father. 
“You sang your own song the best you could.” 
Then he smiled at her and put his arm round her. 

She woke up just then and found that they were 
at home, and that her father Oshda had her in his 
arms and was smiling down at her as he carried 
her into the house. 


THE CASCARONE BALL. 


HE old white hen has stolen her nest, and 



A Donna Maria says we must go and hunt for 
the eggs this morning,” said Shecol to Yappa one 


day. 


“All right,” said Yappa. “But why doesn’t 
Donna Maria let that hen have some little 


PV/T// DON SECUNDINI ROBLES. 


123 


chickens? We have brought her so many eggs 
lately.” 

“ Don’t you know why Donna Maria wants so 
many eggs these days ? ” asked Shecol. 

“ No,” said Yappa. 

“ Why, we are going to have a cascarone ball 
here next week,” said Shecol. 

“ Oh, goody! ” said Yappa, clapping her hands. 

They started off on a run and hunted every- 
where for the nests, — down under the bushes, 
around the sheds, and out in the garden. At 
last, when they had given up in despair and were 
running home through the orchard, the old white 
hen jumped up with a startled cackle. She was 
almost under their feet. 

“ Be careful, Yappa. You will step on the 
nest,” said Shecol. 

The children stopped short and began to peep 
about in the long grass. Soon they saw a little 
hollow with eleven eggs in it. Shecol had brought 
a basket with him, and they put the eggs into that 
and then carried them back carefully to the house. 

That evening the Indians all gathered at Oshda’s 
house. Putsha brought out a basket filled with 
eggs. Putsha took one and said, “Watch me, 
Shecol and Yappa, so that you can do it, too.” 

She made a hole in each end of the egg; then 
she put her mouth to one hole and blew all the 
inside part of the egg out into a dish. 


124 


DOCAS. 


While Putsha was blowing the egg, Colla ran 
up to the Robles’ house. Soon she came back 
carrying a large bowl of perfumed water in her 
hands. Putsha put the eggshell into the bowk 
and the perfumed water ran into the shell through 
the holes in the ends. When it was partly full, 
Putsha lifted the egg out and dropped some 
melted wax on each of the holes in the ends. In a 
few minutes the wax hardened, and Yappa held in 
her hand what seemed to be an egg. But it was 
really an eggshell half filled with perfumed water. 

“ Won’t the people smell sweet when they get 
these eggs broken on their heads ! ” said Yappa. 

Putsha, Colla, and the children worked hard 
that evening before they had all the eggs blown 
and filled. 

The next night Putsha brought out another 
basket of eggs, but instead of perfumed water to 
fill them with, Donna Maria sent a basket of gold 
and silver paper, cut into tiny bits. The paper 
was a brittle, crackly kind that glistened in the 
light. Some of these eggs they colored red, some 
blue, some red and yellow, and some were spotted. 

After the eggs were ready, the cooking began, 
and for two or three days the Indian women were 
busy at that. The Robles had invited all their 
friends from San Jose, and from all the country 
around. They knew that their guests would be 
very hungry after riding so far. 


I 

f 




\ 



i i 


Let’s go to meet them.” 







> 11 ^ wiyiiSni 


MMn'nhiri, 


> 







126 


DOCAS. 


The ball was to be on Wednesday evening. 
Wednesday morning Shecol heard a great noise 
of shouting and laughing toward the south. 

“They’re coming, Yappa. Let’s go to meet 
them,” he called. 

When the children had run out a little way, 
they could see some people coming — about twenty- 
five in the party. These were the Spanish guests 
and their Indian servants. They were having 
great fun, for the men were fine riders. They 
could bend down from their saddles and pick 
flowers from the ground as they galloped past. 

“ I wonder what they are doing when they ride 
up against each other,” said Yappa. As they 
came nearer she saw that they were smearing 
each other’s faces with bright colors. Such look- 
ing people as they were ! But as that was all 
part of the fun, no one cared. 

The Robles family took their friends inside the 
house to wash their faces, while some of the Indian 
servants came to where Oshda lived. 

“ Oh, grandpa, here’s Yisoo’s son,” called Yappa 
to Docas as one of the Indians stopped at their 
door. 

Yappa could not stay to listen to what they 
said, for she had to hurry and help her mother 
with supper. The long tables were set out in an 
arbor near the house. 

In the evening came the ball, for which the 


WITH DON SECUNDINl ROBLES. 12 / 

largest room in the house had been cleared. 
Yappa and Shecol climbed up outside one of the 
windows where they could see everything that 
went on. 

As soon as the people began to gather, came 
the fun of smashing the eggs on each other’s 
heads. Don Secundini Robles was standing in 
the crowd talking to one of his friends from San 
Jose, when Donna Maria came up behind him 
and smashed an eggshell filled with perfumed 
water on his head. Then she jumped back 
among the crowd before he could turn round to 
see who did it. 

Every one laughed, for the scented water was 
running down all over his face and dripping off the 
end of his nose. Soon the guests looked as if they 
had silver and gold hair, so many of the paper 
cascarones had been broken on their heads. 

By and by all the eggs were gone. Donna 
Maria saw Shecol sitting in the window. 

“ Run and get some napkins and some water,” 
she called to him. 

“Come, Yappa,” he said, jumping down from 
the window and holding up his arms to help 
his sister. They ran to the kitchen and came 
back loaded. Putsha helped them carry in the 
pails of water. 

As soon as the guests inside saw the water, 
they gave a shout. They dipped the napkins in 


128 


DOCAS. 


the water and began to slap each other with the 
wet napkins. 

Antonio, one of the men, slipped out and came 
back with a glass tumbler, and after that when 
any one slapped him with a napkin he threw a 
tumbler of water at him. By and by he threw a 
tumbler of water squarely in the face of Pedro. 
Pedro seized the bucket of water and threw the 
whole of it over Antonio. Everybody in the 
room laughed at Pedro and Antonio, and the 
water-throwing stopped. 

By this time every one was tired, so they rested 
a little. Then the musicians started to play, and 
the real dance began. 

Putsha and Shecol and Yappa went to bed 
soon after the dancing began, but the Spaniards 
danced until morning. 

THE SHEEP-SHEARING. 

“ TJOW hot I am!” said Shecol to Yappa, taking 

A i- off his big hat and fanning himself with it. 

“What have you been doing?” asked Yappa. 

“ Driving the sheep into the pens,” said Shecol. 
“ The shearing begins to-morrow.” 

“ I should think the sheep would be glad to get 
rid of their wool these warm days,” said Yappa, 
who was grinding corn. 

“You had better hurry up with your tortillas. 


WITH DON- SECUNDINI ROBLES. 1 29 

The shearers will be here in a little while. They 
have just finished shearing the sheep at the San 
Francisquito ranch,” said Shecol. 

Soon the band of shearers came, and shortly 
after they arrived, supper was served to them 
under the spreading grape vines a little way from 
the house. 

Yisoo’s son, Kole, was captain of the band of 
twenty shearers. It was made up of Indians from * 
the old Santa Clara Mission. 

As soon as supper was over, the shearers went 
down to the creek and came back with their arms 
filled with willow boughs, which Kole had them 
make into a number of brush huts. They slept 
in' these while they were at the Robles ranch. 

Oshda, Occano, and Pantu had been out for 
two days gathering together the sheep belonging 
to the Robles, and now there were five thousand 
sheep waiting in the pens, wondering what was 
going to happen to them. 

A big shed had been built for the shearers to 
stand under while they worked. 

Long before the shearers were up, Shecol was 
sitting on the fence and looking at the sheep. 

“ Where are you going to put the wool when 
it is cut off the sheep ? ” he asked his father, as 
Oshda came toward the pens. 

“ The men will toss the fleeces up to me, and I 
shall throw them down into this big bag. When 


30 


DOCAS. 


the bag gets pretty well filled, I shall have to jump 
up and down on the fleeces so that we can get as 
many into the bag as possible,” answered Oshda. 
He climbed up one of the posts of the shed and 
stood ready for work by a large bag that was 
hanging in a frame at the edge of the roof. 

In a few minutes more the shearers came and 
the work began. Pantu stood by a table, and 
every time a shearer brought a fleece to the table, 
Pantu gave him a five-cent piece. 

Soon Yappa came out also to watch the shear- 
ing, but as hour after hour went by, the sun rose 
higher and higher, and the air grew hot and was 
filled with dust. By and by Yappa said, “ Pm 
tired of watching them, Shecol. Let’s go and 
build a brush hut for ourselves with some of the 
willow branches that were left over from the 
shearers’ huts.” 

“All right,” said Shecol. “We’ll play that we 
are wild Indians living out on a rancheria as 
grandpa used to do.” 

In a little while the hut was built. 

“ Now I’m going to make a mat out of some of 
those tules you brought from the bay yesterday,” 
said Yappa. 

“ I’ll go out hunting, while you make the mats,” 
said Shecol, tying some string to a willow stick 
to make a bow to play with. 

But just then Putsha called, “Come, Yappa, 



Shecol lifted the lamb carefully in his arms and carried it toward 

the hut. 





32 


DOCAS. 


you must help me with the tortillas,” and their 
play was broken up. 

After dinner, Shecol and Yappa went down to 
the shearing place again to see what was going 
on. As they came near, Oshda said, “ Do you 
want a lamb ” 

“Yes,” shouted Shecol and Yappa in the same 
breath. “ Where is it } ” 

“ Out at the end of the shed. Its leg is broken, 
and you may have it if you will take care of it.” 

But they scarcely heard the last words he said, 
they were running so fast for the lamb. 

“Poor little lamb!” said Yappa, as they bent 
over it. 

“ We’ll bind up its leg first,” said Shecol, get- 
ting some sticks for splints. He pulled some 
string out of his pocket and bound the splints 
on as well as he could. 

“ Now we’ll put it into the hut we made,” said 
Yappa. 

Shecol lifted the lamb carefully in his arms and 
carried it toward the hut. 

“ Be careful. You are hurting it,” said Yappa. 
She placed her hand under the lamb, and put the 
wounded leg, which was hanging down, up in its 
proper place. 

“ I’ll run ahead,” said Yappa, “ and get a pile of 
soft tule rushes ready for you to put it down on.” 

In a few minutes more the lamb was lying 


PV/TH BOAT SECUNDINl ROBLES. 


on the rushes in the cool shade of the willow 
boughs. 

“ We must bring it some water,” said Shecol. 

“Yes, and let’s name it Yisoo, after grandpa’s 
friend,” said Yappa. 

The shearers stayed several days longer, but 
the children did not watch them any more, for 
they were taking care of their pet lamb. 


THE BARBECUE. 



HERE’S father.^” asked Yappa of her 


^ ^ mother one afternoon. 

“ Gone off with Don Secundini to dig the pits 
for the barbecue,” answered Putsha. 

“ And where’s Shecol 

“ He has gone with them,” said Putsha. “ But 
we must go to work, for we have bread to make 
and corn to get ready for tortillas to-day. The 
corn is all ready for you to grind. It has been 
soaked in the limewater. Begin to grind it 
while I build a fire in the oven.” 

Yappa went over to what the Mexicans called 
a metate, and sitting down on the ground began 
to grind the corn. The metate was a big, smooth 
stone with two legs on one end of it. The legs 
made it stand up slanting. Yappa put some corn 
on the metate and ground it with another smooth 
stone. 


134 


DOCAS. 


Putsha built a fire in the big brick oven at the 
back of the house. She then came near where 
Yappa was at work, and began to make the bread. 
When the fire had made the oven very hot, 
she went to it, scraped the fire all out, and 
pushed the bread in on the hot bricks. Then 
she closed the oven door and left the bread until 
it was baked. 

When the bread was in the oven, she said 
to Yappa, “ Hurry, Yappa, and build a fire. 
Shecol will be back soon and he will be hungry. 
We must have some tortillas ready for him.” 

“ Isn’t father coming too } ” asked Yappa. 

“ No ; he will have j:o stay all night to turn 
the meat so that it does not burn,” answered 
Putsha. 

Putsha put some big, smooth stones into the 
fire she had built outside on the ground. Then 
she brought some grease and rubbed it well into 
the cornmeal, so that the little grains of cornmeal 
all stuck together and made a paste. 

By this time, the stone Putsha had put into the 
fire was very hot, so she pulled it out a little to one 
side and spread some of the batter over it. In a 
little while one side of the tortilla was brown, so 
Putsha turned it over to cook on the other side. 
Just as it was cooked Shecol came hurrying up. 

“ Anything to eat 1 ” he asked. 

The tortilla was just done, so Yappa gave it to 



Yappa grinding corn. 



136 


DOCAS. 


him. He rolled it up like a jelly roll and began 
eating it. 

“ It’s good. Any more } ” he asked between bites. 

“ In a few minutes,” answered Putsha. She 
had pulled out some more stones and was cook- 
ing more tortillas. 

“ What have you been doing, Shecol ? ” asked 
Yappa, as they waited for the other tortillas to cook. 

“ Digging a pit to cook the meat,” answered 
Shecol. 

Next morning Donna Maria and three other 
women who were visiting her, got into one of the 
ox-carts, which was decorated with boughs and 
flowers. A second cart was standing near, and 
all Donna Maria’s children climbed into it. 

This cart was lined with hides so that it 
was not only comfortable, but safe, for the hides 
kept the children from falling out. Putsha and 
Colla rode in this cart also, in order to take care 
of the children. A third cart was loaded so 
heavily with roast turkeys, chickens, corn-tama- 
les, bread, and other things to eat, that it went 
“ squeakity-squeak,” as it rolled along. 

When everything was ready, Occano and some 
of the other drivers pushed the oxen with the 
ends of their long poles, and they began to move 
slowly away. The Indians walked along by the 
sides of the carts just as they did on wash-day, 
but this time all the men went as well as the 


WITH DON SECUNDJNI ROBLES. 1 3 ; 

women. Most of the men rode on horseback. 
One man played a violin, while another man rode 
behind him to guide the horse. 

When they came to the place where the barbe- 
cue was to be held, Shecol took Yappa all round 
and showed her the meat cooking. As they 
walked along they saw Oshda. 

“ There’s father!” cried Yappa. 

“Yes,” said Shecol, “ he has been up here all 
night, turning the meat over to keep it from 
burning.” 

As they came nearer Yappa saw a big pit in 
the ground about ten feet long. This was lined 
with stones. An ox had been cut in half and 
some long iron skewers stuck through the halves ; 
then the oxen were hung across the top of the 
pit. Yappa gave a sniff. 

“ It smells good,” she said. “ It’s getting brown 
too,” and she peered down into the pit at the 
glowing coals below. 

They passed a place where some men had 
begun to dig in the ground. 

“ That’s where the head is cooking,” said 
Shecol. 

“ Down there in the ground } ’’exclaimed Yappa. 

“ Yes, we dug a little hole, lined it with stones, 
and built a fire. After the stones were very hot, 
we raked the fire out, scattered some dirt over 
the stones so that they should not burn the meat, 


138 


DOCAS. 


and set the head right down in it ; then we filled 
the hole with dirt.” 

Don Secundini came up just as the men 
finished taking the head out of the hole. He 
brushed off the dirt and said, “This is the best of 
all the meat.” He took it over where Donna 
Maria was sitting and said to her, “You shall 
have the tongue.” 

“ Thank you,” said Donna Maria. 

“ I don’t think I ever tasted such good meat 
before,” said Yappa. 

“ It is so juicy and tender,” said Shecol. 

Yappa looked around at the long tables. Then 
she said, “ What a crowd there is ! ” 

“No wonder,” answered Shecol. “ The Robles 
have invited everybody from San Jose to San 
Francisco. See! There are Sehor Soto and 
Senor Sanchez and Sehor Martinez ! ” 

After the people had finished eating, Yappa 
said, “ Now what shall we do? ” 

“ The men are going to ride on their horses 
and play games,” answered Shecol. 

HORSEBACK-RIDING. 

A fter the people had finished eating, Don 
Secundini rode out in front of them. He 
leaned over from the saddle and picked up a leaf 
from the ground as he galloped along. 


WITH DON SECUNDINI ROBLES. 1 39 

“Well done, Don Secundini ! ” said Don Fran- 
cisco. “ Here is a rooster for us to practise on 
to-day.” 

As they came closer, Shecol saw the head of a 
live rooster sticking out of the ground. Just then 
he heard a shout and saw the oldest son of Sehor 
Soto come on a gallop toward the rooster. As he 
passed the rooster, he leaned down and tried to 
seize it by the head, but he missed it. All the 
people laughed, and young Soto laughed too, as 
he turned his horse around and came back where 
they were. 

“ Better luck next time,” he said. 

Pedro then tried to seize the head, but he, too, 
missed. 

“ You boys cannot ride so well as your fathers 
yet,” said Sehor Sanchez. ' “ Many a time have 
I seen Don Secundini ride for the rooster, and 
never yet have I seen him fail.” At this he seized 
Pedro playfully by the leg and pulled him down 
out of the saddle. Then he added, “ Show the 
boys how it should be done, Sehor Robles.” 

So Don Secundini rode away a little distance, 
and then came galloping back. Suddenly he 
bent down, and in a moment more was holding 
the kicking, flopping rooster up in the air. 

“ Bueno, bueno ! ” they all cried. 

“ Let’s have the game of rods,” said the Sehor 
Martinez. All the men and boys were on horse- 


140 


DOCAS. 


back, so they made a ring with the horses facing 
inward. Sehor Soto rode around the outside of 
the ring with a thick stick in his hand. Soon he 
passed the stick to Pedro and then rode quickly 
away. Pedro chased him as fast as his horse 
could go, for if he caught up it was fair for him 
to whip the Sehor Soto over the back with the 
stick. 

Several times Pedro came very close to Sehor 
Soto, but the Sehor would give his horse a 
sudden pull and turn quickly to one side, so that 
Pedro could not hit him. Once, however, the 
Sehor, instead of dodging, turned around to see 
how far away Pedro was. In a moment more 
Pedro was close beside him whipping him as fast 
as he could. 

One of the blows happened to hit the Sehor’s 
horse by mistake, and the horse gave such a jump 
that Sehor Soto was able to get in Pedro’s old 
place in the ring before he could catch up again. 
Then the Sehor was safe, and Pedro had to give 
the stick to some one else and be chased in turn. 

By and by it was home time. Shecol was 
playing near and Pedro noticed him look wist- 
fully at them as they turned to ride away. 

“ Would you like to go with us ? ” Pedro asked. 

“Yes, I would,” was Shecol’s answer. 

“ But how could you take him.^ He can’t ride 
yet,” said Don Secundini. 




Don Secundini 



142 


DOCA^. 


“ I could put him on a blanket on the ground 
and tie the blanket to my saddle with a lasso, the 
way Antonio does with his little brother,” said 
Pedro. “ Run off and tell your mother while I 
get the blanket,” continued Pedro. 

In a few minutes they had started. At first 
Pedro went very slowly and carefully, for fear 
Shecol would tumble off, but after a little, Shecol 
said, “ You may go faster if you like. I can stick 
on all right.” So Pedro let his horse begin to 
gallop. 

Suddenly he heard a shout. He looked around 
and saw Shecol sitting on the ground quite a 
distance behind. The blanket was bumping over 
the ground at his horse’s heels. He stopped his 
horse and waited until Shecol caught up with 
him, and after that he went more slowly, for he 
did not want to lose Shecol again. 

THE RODEO. 

“ TS it going to rain Look at that big cloud,” 
^ said Yappa to Shecol one afternoon in June. 

“ I hope it will not rain to-day,” said Shecol, 
“ for you know we are going to have a round-up 
of the cattle and then a barbecue afterward.” In 
a moment more he added, “ I know ; it’s a dust 
cloud that the cattle are making as the men drive 
them along.” 


IV/TN BOAT SECUNDim ROBLES, 143 

“ Come on, then ; we shall just have time to 
climb the tree by the corral,” said Yappa, starting 
off to run. 

Shecol followed after, and in a few minutes 
they were both safely seated on the branch of a 
large live-oak tree near the corral. 

“ I do hope we can find our calf again,” said 
Yappa. “ You know Don Secundini said when he 
gave it to us last year that we could not keep 
it unless we could tell it when we saw it this year.” 

“ Oh, I think we shall know it,” answered 
Shecol. “ Remember the white spots on its fore- 
head and on its left hip.” 

Soon a number of men came riding out toward 
the corrals. The servants rode off to help drive 
the cattle, while Don Secundini, Don Francisco, 
Senor Soto, Senor Sanchez, and Senor Martinez 
halted their horses just under the tree where 
Shecol and Yappa were sitting. 

“ We shall have a fine place to see from,” said 
Shecol. 

The men below them looked up when they 
heard a voice above. Don Secundini laughed. 
Then he said, “ Don’t fall down, little ones. 
These cattle aren’t used to children, and they 
might hurt you.” 

“ We’re going to look for our calf,” said Shecol. 

In a few minutes Yappa said, “There they 
come ! ” 


144 


DOCAS. 


Shecol peeped out from among the leaves and 
saw Oshda and Pantu driving a little bunch of 
cattle toward them. 

As the bunch came nearer, Don Francisco 
said, “ There are two of my cattle. I see my 
brand on the hip.” 

One of Don Francisco’s men rode up, separated 
his two cattle from the others and drove them 
to one side. The rest of that bunch belonged 
to Don Secundini, so they drove the calves into 
a corral where they could be branded. The old 
ones they drove off in another direction. 

As the second bunch came near them, Yappa 
saw a little calf running along with one of Don 
Secundini’s cows. The calf had a white spot on 
its forehead and one on its left hip. Yappa gave 
Shecol a pull and said, “ There it is.” 

“ Where ? ” asked Shecol. 

Yappa pointed it out, but Shecol said, “That 
can’t be our calf. That’s the way our calf looked 
last year. It will have grown to be very large by 
this time, and besides, father branded it with 
Don Secundini’s brand. This calf has no brand 
yet.” 

They looked over every bunch that came by, 
hoping to find their calf. At last, as their eyes 
were beginning to get tired, Shecol said, “ Don 
Secundini, look at that calf at the head of the 
bunch that is coming. That’s ours.” 


WITH DON- SECUNDINI ROBLES. 145 

Don SecLindini looked at the calf, then he said, 
“ Yes, Shecol, it is yours. You have won the calf.” 

The herders kept on bringing up bunch after 
bunch of cattle and letting each owner pick out 
those that belonged to him. The cattle had 
been running wild for so many months that those 
from the different ranches were all mixed. 

There were so many to look over that their 
herds were not nearly sorted out by evening, so, 
while some of the men drove home the neigh- 
bors’ cattle, others prepared to keep the main 
herd together all night. 

“ And now how are you youngsters going to 
get home 1 ” asked Don Secundini, as he gathered 
up his bridle-reins ready to ride back to the house. 

“ Aren’t they going to drive the cattle away 
from here ? ” asked Shecol. 

“ Not until to-morrow evening. I’ll speak to 
your father about you,” said Don Secundini. 

When Oshda saw where they were, he rode 
up to the tree. He said, “You cannot walk 
home through these cattle. Drop down behind 
me on my horse.” 

First Yappa, then Shecol, dropped down on 
the horse. Yappa put her arms around Oshda, 
and Shecol put his arms around Yappa. In this 
way they did not fall off as they rode home. 

After supper Oshda said, “ Good-by. I have to 
watch with the cattle until midnight.” 


46 


DOCAS. 


The cattle were restive, for they were in a 
strange place. All of a sudden an owl gave a 
screech from a tree in the midst of the herd. 
The cattle became frightened and began to run 
toward Oshda. There were so many of them 
and they were coming so fast that Oshda knew 
he would be run over if he rode toward them, so 
he turned his horse and rode as fast as he could 
ahead of them. 

When he got a little ahead, he began to turn 
the herd toward the left. He did not try to turn 
the whole big herd at once, but only to make the 
front ones run crosswise. The other herders 
helped him, and soon more of the cattle began 
to run toward the left. 

After a little the whole herd were running round 
in a circle. The herders let the cattle run round 
and round as long as they liked, but by and by the 
cattle got so dusty and tired and dizzy that they 
stopped running of their own accord. The 
herders then drove them back again, for they 
were no longer afraid. 

When the cattle were safely back, Oshda said, 
“ We must keep singing or whistling all night. 
That will let the cattle know that some one 
is near them, and they will not be so easily 
frightened.” 

So all the rest of the night the darkness was 
filled with the sound of singing, and the cattle 


WITH DON SECUNDim ROBLES, 


147 


were quiet. Oshda and the herders with him 
watched until midnight ; then others came out to 
relieve them. 

Meanwhile, the people at the Robles’ adobe 
had been having a gay time, for they had a bar- 
becue under the spreading grape vines when they 
first went to the house, and in the evening they 
had a dance. 

Next morning the work with the cattle began 
again, and all day every one was busy. At the 
end of that time, the cattle belonging to the dif- 
ferent ranches were separated, the calves were 
branded with the special mark of the owners, and 
the cattle were all turned out to roam again. 


FOR A CONCLUSION. 


ND so Docas lived his life, — as a small boy at 



the Indian rancheria, as a larger boy and man 
at the Mission, and as an old man with his chil- 
dren and grandchildren about him at the home of 
Don Secundini. He was a very old man when 
he went to the Robles’ home, for it was in 1 769 
that the first white man came to the rancheria, and 
it was 1849 before Don Secundini built the big 
adobe ranch house. His life of mingled play and 
work is ended, and therefore ended also is the story 
of Docas, the Indian boy of Santa Clara. 


BIBLIOGRAPHY. 


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